“It does, and when that day comes God help the poor old world and everything in it.”
In her excited mood Mona thinks she knows better, but she cannot speak of that yet; and Oskar, too, as if trying to gain time, goes on talking.
“The world had its great chance at the end of the war, Mona, but then came those damnable old men with their conferences making a peace that was worse than the war itself. And now the churches—look at the churches who have been told to teach that there’s no peace under the soldier’s sword, standing by while the world is rushing on to destruction! What snares! What hypocrisy! What spiritual harlotry! Why don’t they burn down their altars and shut their doors and be honest?... But that is not what I came to say—to tell you.”
“What is, Oskar?”
He hesitates for a moment, and then in a flood of words he says:
“I don’t want to frighten you, Mona. You must not let me frighten you. I should never forgive myself if.... But you are all I have now, and ... I can’t go away and leave you behind me.... I simply can’t.... It’s impossible, quite impossible.”
“But if they force you, Oskar?”
Oskar laughs again—it is wild laughter.
“Force me? Nobody can be forced if only he has courage.”
“Courage?”