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 intensity.  “I didn’t tell her I was going.”

“You didn’t tell her,” Carr persisted.  “Why not?”

“For a variety of reasons.”  He found it hard to assume lightness with those shrewd old eyes searchingly upon him.  “You can tell her good-by for me.  Well, let’s have a last one.  It’ll be a good many moons before you and I look over a glass at each other again.  If I don’t come back I’ll be in honorable company.  And I’ll give them hell while I last.”

Carr walked with him down to the train.

“When the war broke out,” he said to Thompson at the coach steps, “if you had proposed to go I should privately have considered you a damned idealistic fool.  Now I envy you.  You will never have to make apologies to yourself for yourself, nor to your fellows.  If I strike a blow that a free people may remain free to work out their destiny in their own fashion, I must do it by proxy.  I wish you all the luck there is, Wes Thompson.  I hope you come back safe to us again.”

They shook hands.  A voice warned all and sundry that the train was about to leave, and over the voice rose the strident notes of a gong.  Thompson climbed the steps, passed within, thrust his head through an open window as the Imperial Limited gathered way.  His last glimpse of a familiar face was of Carr standing bareheaded, looking wistfully after the gliding coaches.

* * * * *

The grandfather clock in the hall was striking nine when Sam Carr came home.  He hung his hat on the hall-tree and passed with rather unsteady steps into the living room.  He moved circumspectly, with the peculiar caution of the man who knows that he is intoxicated and governs his movements accordingly.  Carr’s legs were very drunk and he was aware of this, but his head was perfectly clear.  He managed to negotiate passage to a seat near his daughter.