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"
He was not the less angry because he realized the essential truth of
part of what she said. He felt no great impulse of sympathy with
any of the combatants. He knew the gravity of the situation rather
than its tragedy. He did not like war, any war. He saw no reason
why men should kill. But this war was a fact. He had had no hand
in its making, but it was made.
His first impulse was to leave her in dignified silence. But she
was crying, and I he disliked leaving her in tears. Dead as was his
love for her, and that night, somehow, he knew that it was dead, she
was still his wife. They had had some fairly happy years together,
long ago. And he felt the need, too, of justification.
"Perhaps you are right, Natalie," he said, after a moment. "I
haven't cared about this war as much as I should. Not the human
side of it, anyhow. But you ought to understand that by making
shells for the Allies, I am not only making money for myself; they
need the shells. And I'll give them the best.


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