His voice shook with a passion almost uncontrollable. He half rose from his chair, with clinched fists. But, suddenly remembering himself, or reading the expression on the girl's face, he sank back again, passed his hand over his face and forced another bland, unmirthful smile.
"I'd hate to be the man who commits his country to war," he said in mild, regretful tones.
But here, Kasker, who had been frowning darkly on the suspender man, broke in.
"See here, Abe; I don't allow that kind of talk in my store," he growled.
"You? You're like me; you hate the war, Jake."
"I did once, Abe, but I don't now. I ain't got time to hate it. It's here, and I can't help it. We're in the war and we're going ahead to win it, 'cause there ain't no hope in backing down. Stop it? Why, man, we can't stop it. It's like a man who is pushed off a high bank into a river; he's got to swim to a landing on the other side, or else—sink. We Americans ain't goin' to sink, Abe Kauffman; we'll swim over, and land safe. It's got to be; so it will be."
"All right. I said, didn't I, that it won't hurt my pocket? But it hurts my heart." (Josie was amazed that he claimed a heart.) "But it's funny to hear you talk for the war, Jake, when you always hated it."
"Well, I've quit kickin' till we're out of the woods. I'm an American, Abe, and the American flag is flying in France. If our boys can't hold it in the face of the enemy, Jake Kasker will go do it himself!"
Kauffman stood up, casting a glance of scorn on his customer.
"You talk like a fool, Jake; you talk like you was talking for the papers—not honest, but as if someone had scared you."