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And
of course Chris - "
"Yes, they knew Chris." Her voice was scornful. "So they think I'm
moping and hiding because - How interesting!"
She sat back, with her old insolent smile.
"Poor Chris!" she said. "The only man in the lot except Clay
Spencer who is doing his bit for the war, and they - when is your
party, Roddie?"
"New-year's Eve."
"I'll come," she said. And smiling again, dangerously, "I'll come,
with bells on."


CHAPTER XVI
There had been once, in Herman Klein the making of a good American.
He had come to America, not at the call of freedom, but of peace
and plenty. Nevertheless, he had possibilities.
Taken in time he might have become a good American. But nothing
was done to stimulate in him a sentiment for his adopted land. He
would, indeed, have been, for all his citizenship papers, a man
without a country but for one thing.
The Fatherland had never let go. When he went to the Turnverein,
it was to hear the old tongue, to sing the old songs.


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