"Then—God forbid anything should happen to you!—I'm your wife. You see, Sam?"
"Why, Clara—"
"You see what I mean. But nothing can happen this way, because if you try to enlist in some mechanical department where they need you in this country—you see, Sam? See?"
"I—see."
"Your mother would have to get used to things then, Sam—it would be the easiest for her. An old lady like her couldn't go trailing around the outskirts of a camp like your wife could. Think of the comfort it'll be to her to have me with you if she can't be. She'll get so used to—living alone—"
"I—You mustn't talk that way to me, Clara. When I'm called to serve my country, I'm the first one that will want to go. I've given more money already than I can afford to help the boys who are at the front. So far as I'm concerned, enlisting like this with—with you—around, would be the happiest thing ever happened to me, but—well, you see for yourself."
"You mean, then, you won't?"
"I mean, Clara, I can't."
She was immediately level of tone again and pushed back, placing her folded napkin beside her place, patting it down.
"Well, then, Sam, I'm done."