“Quite true,” replied her brother. “I am humbled to the ground at my own all to obvious ineptitude, and am lost in admiration of the marvellous efficiency of the young ladies of Canada whom it has been my good fortune to meet.”
Nora glanced at him suspiciously. “You talk well,” she said. “I half believe you're just making fun of us.”
“Not a bit, Nora, not a bit,” said his sister. “It is as I have said before. The man is as jealous as he can be, and, like all men, he hates to discover himself inferior in any particular to a woman. But we must be going. I am so glad you are home again, dear,” she said, turning to Kathleen. “We shall hope to see a great deal of you. Thank you for the delightful lunch. It was so good of you to have us.”
“Yes, indeed,” added the young man. “You saved my life. I had just about reached the final stage of exhaustion. I, too, hope to see you again very soon and often, for you know we must finish that discussion and settle that question.”
“What question is that,” inquired his sister, “if I may ask?”
“Oh, the old question,” said her brother, “the eternal question—war.”
“I suppose,” said Nora, “Kathleen has been giving you some of her peace talk. I want you to know, Mr. Romayne, that I don't agree with her in the least, and I am quite sure you don't either.”
“I am not so sure of that,” replied the young man. “We have not finished it out yet. I feel confident, however, that we shall come to an agreement on it.”
“I hope not,” replied Nora, “for in that case you would become a pacifist, for Kathleen, just like mother, you know, is a terrible peace person. Indeed, our family is divided on that question—Daddy and I opposed to the rest. And you know pacifists have this characteristic, that they are always ready to fight.”
“Yes,” said her sister. “We are always ready to fight for peace. But do not let us get into that discussion now. I shall walk with you a little way.”