Andrews was watching Chrisfield's face; it suddenly flushed red. He was silent abruptly. His eyes met Andrews's eyes with a flash of fear.
“They're all sorts of officers, like they're all sorts of us,” Al was insisting.
“But you damn fools, quit arguing,” cried Smiddy. “What the hell are we goin' to do? It ain't safe here no more, that's how I look at it.”
They were silent.
At last Chrisfield said:
“What you goin' to do, Andy?”
“I hardly know. I think I'll go out to St. Germain to see a boy I know there who works on a farm to see if it's safe to take a job there. I won't stay in Paris. Then there's a girl here I want to look up. I must see her.” Andrews broke off suddenly, and started walking back and forth across the end of the room.
“You'd better be damn careful; they'll probably shoot you if they catch you,” said Slippery.
Andrews shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, I'd rather be shot than go to Leavenworth for twenty years, Gawd! I would,” cried Al.