“And charity isn’t enough,” said Jemmy Hart. “Not the private charity of dear old ladies. The nations of the world must save Russia—and mighty quick, or it will be too late for the people we saw to-day.”
“And those we shall see to-morrow,” said Bertram.
They sat up late in the saloon, on the table, with their legs up to avoid the crawling things.
“What’s going to happen to this sad and bad old Europe?” asked Jemmy Hart.
For hours they discussed his question.
Dr. Weekes had a fine and spiritual outlook on life. He deplored the attitude of his own country, which he accused of selfish indifference to humanity.
“We’re betraying Christ,” he said. “We’re the Pharisees of the world. ‘Thank God that we are not as these men are—publicans and sinners.’ We’re up to the neck in self-righteousness. We came into the war a damned sight too late to suffer the agony of those who fought first and longest. We cleared out of Europe a damned sight too quick. Back to Big Business. A hundred-per-cent Americanism. God! I’m ashamed of my own folk!”
Jemmy Hart would have none of it.
“We’re the Tom Tiddler’s ground of all the beggars of Europe. We fill the hat every time. I guess we’ll stuff food into Russia, while swearing by all our gods that Europe can go to hell.”
“Russia is the key of world peace and economic recovery,” said Dr. Weekes. “These people must be saved, for our sake as well as theirs. We want them to buy our goods. We want their grain and oil and minerals and timber and flour. There won’t always be drought in Russia.”