“I think every race has some definite characteristics necessary to the unity of that race,” Parker replied, with interest.  “Hate makes the Irish cohesive; pride or arrogance prevents the sun from setting on British territory; a passionate devotion to the soil has solidified the French republic in all its wars, while a blind submission to an overlord made Germany invincible in peace and terrible in war.”

“I wonder what spiritual binder holds the people of the United States together, Mr. Parker?” Don Miguel queried naively.

“Love of country, devotion to the ideals of liberty and democracy,” Parker replied promptly, just as his daughter joined them.

Farrel rose and surrendered to her his chair, then seated himself on the edge of the porch with his legs dangling over into a flower-bed.  His face was grave, but in his black eyes there lurked the glint of polite contempt.

“Did you hear the question and the answer, Miss Parker?” he queried.

She nodded brightly.

“Do you agree with your father’s premise?” he pursued.

“Yes, I do, Don Mike.”

“I do not.  The mucilage in our body politic is the press-agent, the advertising specialist, and astute propagandist.  I wonder if you know that, when we declared war against Germany, the reason was not to make the world safe for democracy, for there are only two real reasons why wars are fought.  One is greed and the other self-protection.  Thank God, we have never been greedy or jealous of the prosperity of a neighbor.  National aggrandizement is not one of our ambitions.”

Kay stared at him in frank amazement.

“Then you mean that we entered the late war purely as a protective measure?”

“That’s why I enlisted.  As an American citizen, I was unutterably weary of having our hand crowded and our elbow joggled.  I saw very clearly that, unless we interfered, Germany was going to dominate the world, which would make it very uncomfortable and expensive for us.  I repeat that for the protection of our comfort and our bank-roll we declared war, and anybody who tells you otherwise isn’t doing his own thinking, he isn’t honest with himself, and he’s the sort of citizen who is letting the country go to the dogs because he refuses to take an intelligent interest in its affairs.”

“What a perfectly amazing speech from an ex-soldier!” Kay protested.

He smiled his sad, prescient smile.

“Soldiers deal with events, not theories.  They learn to call a spade a spade, Miss Parker.  I repeat:  It wasn’t a war to make the world safe for democracy.  That phrase was just a slogan in a business campaign—­the selling of stock in a military enterprise to apathetic Americans.  We had to fight or be overrun; when we realized that, we fought.  Are not the present antics of the Supreme Council in Paris sufficient proof that saving democracy was just another shibboleth?  Is not