She leaned forward a little and tried not to look toward him or to think about him too much; but that was hard to do. She had recognized that, when Hubert Lennon had summoned Gerry Hull out to the conservatory, something had been troubling him and he had been on the brink of a decision. He had met her during the moments when he must decide and, in a way, he had referred the decision to her. “They’re going to make me say something here this afternoon; and this time I’m going to say exactly what I think. Wouldn’t you?”
She had told him that she would, without knowing at all what it was about. Now it seemed to her that, as his time for speaking approached, he was finding his determination more difficult.
The French officer was making an extravagant address, praising everyone here and all Americans for coming into the war to save France and civilization; he was complimenting every American deed, proclaiming gratitude in the name of his country for the aid which America had given; and, while he was speaking thus excessively, Ruth was aware that Gerry Hull was watching her most intently; and when she glanced up at him she saw him draw up straighter in his chair and sit there, looking away, with lips tight shut. The French officer finished and, after the applause, Lady Agnes Ertyle was introduced and she spoke earnestly and simply, telling a little of the work of Americans in Belgium and in France, of the great value of American contributions and moral support; she added her praise and thanks for American aid.
It seemed to Ruth that once Gerry Hull was about to interrupt. But he did not; no one else appeared to notice his agitation; everyone was applauding the pretty English girl who had spoken so gracefully and was sitting down. The gentleman who was making the introductions was beginning to relate who Gerry Hull was and what he had done, when Gerry suddenly stood up. Everyone saw him and clapped wildly; the introducer halted and turned; he smiled and sat down, leaving him standing alone before his friends.
Men here and there were rising while they applauded and called his name; other men, women, and girls got to their feet. Hubert Lennon, on Ruth’s left, was one of the first to stand up; his aunt was standing. So Ruth arose then, too; everyone throughout the great rooms was standing now in honor of Gerry Hull. He gazed about and went white a little; he was looking again for someone lost in all the standing throng; he was looking for Ruth! He saw her and studied her queerly again for a moment. She sat down; others began settling back and the rooms became still.
“I beg your pardon,” Ruth heard Gerry Hull’s voice apologizing first to the man who had tried to introduce him. “I beg the pardon of you all for what I’m going to say. It’s not a word of what I’m supposed to say, I know; it’ll be just what I think and feel.
“We’re not doing our part, people!” he burst out passionately without more preparation. “We’re still taking protection behind England and France, as we’ve done since the start of the war! We ought to be there in force now! God knows, we ought to have been there in force three years ago! But instead of being on the battle line with them in force even with theirs, our position is so pitiable that we make our allies feel grateful for a few score of destroyers and a couple of army divisions holding down quiet sectors in Lorraine. That’s because our allies have become so used to expecting nothing—or next to nothing—of America that anything at all which we do fills them with such sincere amazement that they compliment and overwhelm us with thanks of the sort you have heard.”
He turned about to the French officer and to Lady Agnes, who had just spoken. “Forgive me!” he cried to them so that all in the rooms could hear. “You know I mean no offense to you or lack of appreciation of what you have said. You cannot tell the truth to my people; I can for you, and I must!”
He straightened and spoke to his own people again. “On the day that German uhlans rode across the Belgian border, Belgium and England and France—yes, even Russia—looked to us to come in; or, at least, to protest and, if our protest was not respected, to enforce it by our arms. But we did nothing—nothing but send a few dollars for Belgian relief, a few ships of grain and a few civilians to distribute it. The outrages of the Boche beasts went on—Termonde, Louvain, the massacres of the Armenians, the systematic starvation and enslavement of Belgians, Poles, Serbians; and we subscribed a little more money for relief. Here and there American missionaries saved a life or two. That’s all we did, my friends! So here in our country and in our own newspapers the German Imperial Embassy paid for and had printed advertisements boasting that they were going to sink without warning ships sailing from our ports with our own people aboard; and they sank the Lusitania!
“Then England and France and the remnant of Belgium said, ‘Surely now America must come in!’ But you know what we did!”