“General opinion seems to hold the opposite view.”
It was the major’s turn to remain silent. He watched Potter’s face keenly.
“What do you want of me?” Potter asked, finally.
“What would you do if war came?” countered the major.
“Enlist, I suppose. As an aviator, if I could. I’ve been thinking of going to France, anyhow.”
“That’s adventure,” said the major. “And as for enlisting, would you be most valuable there or here—helping to produce those twenty-five thousand ’planes? Think that over.”
“Do you believe we shall be in it?” asked Potter.
“I don’t know,” said the major. “But I do know that the man who goes ahead as if he were sure we shall will be doing the thing he should do. You, for instance, might think aeroplanes, plan aeroplanes, dream aeroplanes—fighting-’planes.... Shall we play around now?”
They played around, for the most part in silence, for Potter was following the major’s direction to think. In the locker-room and in the shower-baths they did not allude to the matter of their conversation, and when they came out on the piazza of the club they found themselves in the midst of a party of younger members talking the sort of talk that is generally to be heard on country-club piazzas and drinking as if that were the business of their lives.
“Hey, Potter,” called Jack Eldredge, “come over here and meet a pilgrim and a stranger—also state your preference.”