Nancy nodded.
"Yes. We are enemies."
"That's so," Bull agreed. "That's the pity of it. If you were on my side—"
"But I'm not. No." Nancy's denial was almost sharp. It certainly was hurried. "I'm kind of glad I've seen you, though," she went on. "I've had it in mind I wanted to say things to you." A smile came back to her eyes. "You see, there are enemies and enemies. There's the enemy you can regard well. There's the enemy you can hate and despise. Well, I just want to say we're enemies who don't need to hate and despise—yet. I don't know how things'll be later. Maybe you'll learn to hate me good before we're through. But that's as maybe. I'm going to do my work for all I know for my folks. I'm going to be in this fight right up to my neck. I've been warned that way. Well, that being so, I'm going to fight without looking for quarter, and I shall give none. That sounds tough, doesn't it? But I mean it. And I wanted to say it before things start. I'm glad I've had the chance—against my notions of things."
Bull laughed. He was in the mood to laugh—now.
"It sounds fine. Say—"
"Are you laughing at me?"
"There isn't a thing further from my thoughts." Bull's denial was sincere and prompt. "I'm glad you happened along. I'm glad you said those things. Fight this war—as I shall—with all that's in you. It don't matter a thing if you're right or wrong. Fight it square and hard for your folk, and there isn't a right man or woman, but who'll respect you, and think the better of you for it. A good fight's no crime when you're convinced you're right."
The girl drew a deep breath, and, to the man, it seemed in the nature of relief. A great anxiety for her stirred him.
"I'm glad you said that," she said. Then she gazed reflectively up at the old ramparts. "No. It's no crime to fight when you're convinced. Besides it's right, too, to fight for your side at any time. That's how I see it. You'll fight for yours—"