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Or London."
Clayton laughed. Behind Nolan's cynicism he felt a real disturbance.
But Dunbar eyed him uncertainly. He didn't know about some of these
Irish. They'd fight like hell, of course, if only they'd forget
England.
"Don't worry about Washington," Clayton said. "Let it work out its
own problems. We will have our own. What do you suppose men like
you and myself are going to do? We can't fight."
Nolan settled himself in a long chair.
"Why can't we fight?" he asked. "I heard something the other day.
Roosevelt is going to take a division abroad - older men. I rather
like the idea. Wherever he goes there'll be fighting. I'm no Rough
Rider, God knows; but I haven't spent a half hour every noon in a
gymnasium for the last ten years for nothing. And I can shoot."
"And you are free," Clayton observed, quietly.
Nolan looked up.
"It's going to be hard on the women," he said. "You're all right.
They won't let you go. You're too useful where you are. But of
course there's the boy.


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