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Her color had faded,
and her smile was gone.
"I won't listen any longer," she said. "I'm ready to talk about
fighting, but not about dying."
Clayton was conscious that he had had, in spite of Audrey's speech
about the wine, rather more to drink than he should have. He was
not at all drunk, but a certain excitement had taken the curb off
his tongue. After the departure of the women he found himself,
rather to his own surprise, delivering a harangue on the Germans.
"Liars and cheats," he said. And was conscious of the undivided
attention of the men. "They lied when they signed the Hague
Convention; they lie when they claim that they wanted peace, not
war; they lie when they claim the mis-use by the Allies of the Red
Cross; they lie to the world and they lie to themselves. And their
peace offers will be lies. Always lies."
Then, conscious that the table was eying him curiously, he subsided
into silence.
"You're a dangerous person, Clay," somebody said. "You're the kind
who develops a sort of general hate, and will force the President's
hand if he can.


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