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With the tanks, and the Allied offensive and the evidence of
discontent in Austria, the thing might after all be over before
America was involved.
He reflected, however, that an early peace would not be an unmixed
blessing for him. He wanted the war to end: he hated killing. He
felt inarticulately that something horrible was happening to the
world. But personally his plans were premised on a war to last at
least two years more, until the fall of 1918. That would let him
out, cover the cost of the new plant, bring renewals of his foreign
contracts, justify those stupendous figures on the paper in his hand.
He wondered, rather uncomfortably, what he would do, under the
circumstances, if it were in his power to declare peace to-morrow.
In his office in the mill administration building, he found the
general manager waiting. Through the door into the conference room
beyond he could see the superintendents of the various departments,
with Graham rather aloof and detached, and a sprinkling of the most
important foremen.


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