"But you believe that no war can be justified?"
Bob shook his head.
"Think," said the girl, "think of the sixteenth century, when Philip of Spain made such great preparations to conquer and subdue England. If he had succeeded, our religion would have been destroyed, our homes taken away from us, our liberty torn from us, our existence as a nation would have been practically wiped out. Do you believe God meant Drake and Hawkins and the rest of them to sit down quietly while the Spaniards invaded our land and destroyed our liberties? Do you believe that?"
Bob was silent.
"No, you do not believe it. You know that had Philip II succeeded there would be no England to-day such as we know. Well, now it comes to this: A greater and a more terrible power than Spain seeks to crush us; but our men, thank God, have not ceased to be Englishmen, and they will safeguard our liberties, and keep for us still the England we love. When the war is over, and all danger is gone, I suppose that you, who stand idly by, and talk about the ethics of war, will think it your right to enjoy the liberties which these brave fellows suffer and die to give you. Is that it?"
"Nancy, that's not fair."
"I want to be fair. Tell me, is that your attitude? It is un-English, and it is cowardly. Is it yours?"
"I will not try to answer you, Nancy—I should be sorry afterwards, perhaps; but—but—Nancy, is everything over between us?"
"That's for you to say."
"For me?"