“Must you what?”
“Insular Englishman, ‘stay-put’ is graphic American. By the way, why do you dislike Americans so?”
“I should like you even better as a British subject,” he admitted.
Angela Hilary turned to the fire and spoke into it. “Oh, this war—this wretched war! But, do you know, Dr. Latham,” swinging back to him—she could not keep turned from him long—“do you know, I’ve been thinking.” Latham smiled indulgently. “Oh! I think a great deal, a very great deal.”
“When?”
“Well—for one thing—I think most all night—every night.”
He let the enormity pass. “And this last cogitation, of which you were about to speak——”
“When you interrupted me rudely.”
“When I interrupted you with flaming interest. It was about our present war, I apprehend.”
“I was thinking what a lot of good people were getting out of it—different people such different good. I don’t suppose there’s any one who hasn’t reaped some real benefit from it, if they’d stop and think.”