HILDA (calmly). He will do it with courage.
WHITE (referring to her brother's letter). Either prison or acceptance!
HILDA. I would rather have my son in prison than have him do what he felt was wrong. Wouldn't you?
WHITE (evasively). We won't have to face that problem for two years.
HILDA. And when it comes—if he falters—I'll give him these notes of that wonderful speech you made at the International Conference in 1910. (Picking it up) I was looking through it only this morning.
WHITE (troubled). Oh, that speech.
HILDA (glancing through it with enthusiasm). "All wars are imperialistic in origin. Do away with overseas investments, trade routes, private control of ammunition factories, secret diplomacy—"
WHITE. Don't you see that's all dead wood?
HILDA (not heeding him). This part gave me new strength when I thought of Wallace. (Reading with eloquence) "War will stop when young men put Internationalism above Nationality, the law of God above the dictates of statesmen, the law of love above the law of hate, the law of self-sacrifice above the law of profit. There must be no boundaries in man's thought. Let the young men of the world once throw down their arms, let them once refuse to point their guns at human hearts, and all the boundaries of the world will melt away and peace will find a resting-place in the hearts of men!"
WHITE (taking it from her). And I made you believe it! What silly prophets we radicals were. (He tears it up.) Mere scraps of paper, dear; scraps of paper, now.