"I've told a lie," he said triumphantly. "I've shifted my birthplace six hundred miles.
"Mind you, I don't admit a thing that Cissie has ever said about America—not one thing. You don't understand the sort of proposition America is up against. America is the New World, where there are no races and nations any more; she is the Melting Pot, from which we will cast the better state. I've believed that always—in spite of a thousand little things I believe it now. I go back on nothing. I'm not fighting as an American either. I'm fighting simply as myself.... I'm not going fighting for England, mind you. Don't you fancy that. I don't know I'm so particularly in love with a lot of English ways as to do that. I don't see how any one can be very much in love with your Empire, with its dead-alive Court, its artful politicians, its lords and ladies and snobs, its way with the Irish and its way with India, and everybody shifting responsibility and telling lies about your common people. I'm not going fighting for England. I'm going fighting for Cissie—and justice and Belgium and all that—but more particularly for Cissie. And anyhow I can't look Pa Britling in the face any more.... And I want to see those trenches—close. I reckon they're a thing it will be interesting to talk about some day.... So I'm going," said Mr. Direck. "But chiefly—it's Cissie. See?"
Cissie had come and stood by the side of him.
She looked from poor broken Teddy to him and back again.
"Up to now," she said, "I've wanted you to go...."
Tears came into her eyes.
"I suppose I must let you go," she said. "Oh! I'd hate you not to go...."
§ 14
"Good God! how old the Master looks!" cried Teddy suddenly.