"Why, old girl, I thought it was what you wanted! I—you said——"
"Paul, Paul! You! It can't be! Why—why, you are all I have!"
"That is one reason the more for my going—we have no son to send."
"But Paul—it—I—the war is so far away! It isn't as if—as if we were at war."
"Almost—'France is the land of my ancestors'—your very words, Margaret."
"I know, but——"
"'And the cause is so just.'"
"But, Paul, I did not mean——"
"Did not mean what!" Paul turned and faced her sternly. "Margaret, your eloquence has sent a good many young men to the front. I wonder—" He paused, and a new expression dawned in his eyes; an expression that Margaret could not bear: an accusation, a suspicion.
Margaret cowered in her chair and hid her face.