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He had dropped back to the old idiom, after years of painful
struggle to abandon it. "It iss that I am a German, also. I have
people there, in the war. To make shells to kill them - no."
"He is determined, Mr. Spencer," said Hutchinson. "I have been
arguing with him, but - you can't argue with a German."
Clayton was uneasily aware of something like sympathy for the man.
"I understand how you feel, Klein," he observed. "But of course
you know, whether you go or stay, the shells will be made, anyhow."
"I know that."
"You are throwing up a good position."
"I'll try to get another."
The prospective loss of Klein was a rather serious one. Clayton,
seated behind his great desk, eyed him keenly, and then stooped to
bribery. He mentioned a change in the wage scale, with bonuses to
all foremen and rollers. He knew Klein's pride in the mill, and he
outlined briefly the growth that was about to be developed. But
the boss roller remained obdurate. He understood that such things
were to be, but it was not necessary that he assist Germany's enemies
against her.


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