“No. What made him enlist at all?”
“Only because he's that sort,” Fred returned briskly. “He may be inexplicable to people who believe that his going out to fight for his country is the same thing as going out to commit a mur—”
She lifted her hand. “Couldn't you—”
“I beg your pardon,” Fred said at once. “I'm sorry, but I don't know just how to explain him to you.”
“Why?”
He laughed, apologetically. “Well, you see, as I understand it, you don't think it's possible for a person to have something within him that makes him care so much about his country that he—”
“Wait!” she cried. “Don't you think I'm willing to suffer a little rather than to see my country in the wrong? Don't you think I'm doing it?”
“Well, I don't want to be rude; but, of course, it seems to me that you're suffering because you think you know more about what's right and wrong than anybody else does.”
“Oh, no. But I—”
“We wouldn't get anywhere, probably, by arguing it,” Fred said. “You asked me.”