“Never!” he cried. “The South will not submit to that until every man who can bear arms is shot down.” He paused. The strains of a waltz mingled with talk and laughter floated out of the open window. His voice dropped to a low intensity. “We are getting ready in Company A,” he said; “the traitors will be dropped. We are getting ready to fight for Missouri and for the South.”
The girl felt his excitement, his exaltation.
“And if you were not, Max, I should disown you,” she whispered.
He leaned forward until his face was close to hers.
“And now?” he said.
“I am ready to work, to starve, to go to prison, to help—”
He sank back heavily into the corner.
“Is that all, Jinny?”
“All?” she repeated. “Oh, if a woman could only do more!”
“And is there nothing—for me?”