He shook his head slowly, while upon his face the faintly indicated modellings of a grin hinted of an inner laughter at some surreptitious thought. “Well, you know, Fred says himself sometimes, I don't seem to be much of a talker exactly!”
“I know. But don't you see? That sort of thing is contagious. Others will think they ought to go if he does; he's popular and quite a leader. Can't you do anything with him?”
She waited for him to answer. “Can't you?” she insisted.
The grin had disappeared, and Ramsey grew red again. He seemed to wish to speak, to heave with speech that declined to be spoken and would not rouse up from his inwards. Finally he uttered words.
“I—I—well, I—”
“Oh, I know,” she said. “A man—or a boy!—always hates to be intruding his own convictions upon other men, especially in a case like this, where he might be afraid of some idiot's thinking him unmanlike. But Ramsey—” Suddenly she broke off and looked at him attentively; his discomfort had become so obvious that suspicion struck her. She spoke sharply. “Ramsey you aren't dreaming of doing such a thing, are you?”
“What such a thing?”
“Fred hasn't influenced you, has he? You aren't planning to go with him, are you?”
“Where?”
“To join the Canadian aviation.”