Maybe it sounds softy to you--but if I
got to pay with her happiness for--ours--then I never want happiness to
the day I die."
"In other words, it's the mother first."
"Don't put it that way--it's her--age--first. It ain't what she wants
and don't want; it's what she's got to have. My mother couldn't live
away from me."
"She could if you were called to war."
There was something electric in the silence that followed, something
that seemed to tighten the gaze of each for the other.
"But I haven't been--yet."
"The next draft will get you."
"Maybe."
"Well, what'll you do then?"
"That's something me and ma haven't ever discussed. The war hasn't been
mentioned in our house for two years--except that the letters don't come
from Germany, and that's a grief to her. There's enough time for her to
cross that bridge when we come to it. She worries about it enough."
"If I was a man I'd enlist, I would!"
"I'd give my right hand to. Every other night I dream I'm a lieutenant."
"Why, there's not a fellow I know that hasn't beaten the draft to it and
enlisted for the kind of service he wants. I know a half a dozen who
have got in the home guard and things and have saved themselves by
volunteering from being sent to France.
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