the stem of his empty glass a second. "I hate to see you
go, and still I'm glad you're going," he said with an odd, wistful note
in his voice. "I'd go too, Thompson, if I weren't too old to be any use
over there."

"Eh?" Thompson looked at him keenly. "Have you been revising your
philosophy of life?"

"No. Merely bringing it up to date," Carr replied soberly. "We have what
we have in the way of government, economic practice, principles of
justice, morality--so forth and so on. I'm opposed to a lot of it. Too
much that's obsolete. A lot that's downright bad. But bad as it is in
spots, it is not a circumstance to what we should have to endure if the
Germans win this war. I believe in my people and my country. I don't
believe in the German system of dominating by sheer force and planned
terror. The militarists and the market hunters have brought us to this.
But we have to destroy the bogey they have raised before we can deal
with them. And a man can't escape nationalism. It's bred in us. What the
tribe thinks, the individual thinks. This thing is in the air. We are
getting unanimous. Whether or not we approve the cause, we are too proud
to consider getting whipped in a war that was forced on us. One way and
another, no matter what we privately think of our politicians and
industrial barons and our institutions generally, it is becoming
unthinkable to the Anglo-Saxon that the German shall stalk rough-shod
over us. We are beginning--we common people--to hate him and his works.
Look at you and me. We were aloof at first. We are intelligent. We have
learned to saddle feeling with logic. We have not been stampeded by
military bands and oratory. Yet there is something in the air. I wish I
could fight. You are going to fight. Not because you like fighting, but
because you see something to fight for. And before long those who cannot
see will be very few. Isn't that about right?"

"I think so," Thompson replied.

"There you are," Carr went on. "Myself, I have put philosophic
consideration in abeyance for the time. I've got primitive again. Damn
the Central Powers! If I had seven sons I'd send them all to the front."

They had another drink.

"Did you go and say good-by to Sophie?" Carr demanded suddenly.

"I saw her, but I don't think I said good-by," Thompson said absently.
He was thinking about Carr's surprising outburst. He agreed precisely
with what the old man said. But he had not suspected the old radical of
such inte