"You don't belong to yourself now; you don't even belong to me. You belong to your country, and you have a sacred charge to keep yourself strong and well for your country's sake. I have been thinking, thinking all night and all day long."
"You look as if you had been crying a little, too," he said with his queer smile.
"That's all past. I've been thinking, and worshipping you. Don't you suppose I know all that you've been through, to come to this? I've followed you every step from your old theories and opinions."
"Well, you've had a long row to hoe."
"And I know you've done this from the highest motives—"
"Oh, there won't be much pettifogging to do till this cruel war is—"
"And you haven't simply done it for my sake. I couldn't respect you if you had."
"Well, then we'll say I haven't. A man that hasn't got his own respect intact wants the respect of all the other people he can corner. But we won't go into that. I'm in for the thing now, and we've got to face our future. My idea is that this isn't going to be a very protracted struggle; we shall just scare the enemy to death before it conies to a fight at all. But we must provide for contingencies, Editha. If anything happens to me—"
"Oh, George!" She clung to him sobbing.
"I don't want you to feel foolishly bound to my memory. I should hate that, wherever I happened to be."