"You—"
"Thought maybe when you'd read the newspapers enough and heard the khaki-boys on the street corners enough, and listened to—to your country pleading enough that—that you'd rise up to show you was a man. I knew all these months down inside of me that you was a slacker, but I kept hopin'. Gawd how I kept hopin'."
"You—you can't talk to me that way! You're—-"
"Can't I! Ha! Anybody can talk any old way to a slacker he wants to and then not say enough. You ain't got no guts you—you're yellow, that's what you are, you—"
"Blossum!"
"You, sneaking up to me with trumped up exemption stuff when your country's talking her great heart out for men to stand by 'er! Gawd! If I was a man—If was a man she wouldn't have to ask me twice, but before I went marching off I'd take time off to help the street cleaning department wipe up a few streets with the slackers I found loafing around under a government they were afraid to fight for. I'd show 'em. I'd show 'em if a government is good enough to live under it's good enough to fight under. I'd show 'em."
"If you was a man, Blossum, you'd eat those words. By God, you'd eat 'em. I'm no coward—I—"
"I know you're not, Hal—that's why I—I—"
"I got the right to decide for myself if I want to fight when I don't know what I'm fighting for. This ain't my war, this ain't America's war. Before I fight in it I want a darn sight to know what I'm fighting for, and not all the street corner rah rah stuff has told me yet. I ain't a bull to go crazy with a lot of red waved in my face. I've got no blood to spill in the other fellow's battle. I'm—-"
"No, but you—"