He went on again. "If I believed--if I felt as you do about this war--Do you wish me to feel as you do?" Now she was really not sure; so she said: "George, I don't know what you mean." He seemed to muse away from her as before. "There is a sort of fascination in it. I suppose that at the bottom of his heart every man would like at times to have his courage tested, to see how he would act." "How can you talk in that ghastly way?" "It _is_ rather morbid. Still, that's what it comes to, unless you're swept away by ambition or driven by conviction. I haven't the conviction or the ambition, and the other thing is what it comes to with me. I ought to have been a preacher, after all; then I couldn't have asked it of myself, as I must, now I'm a lawyer. And you believe it's a holy war, Editha?" he suddenly addressed her. "Oh, I know you do! But you wish me to believe so, too?" She hardly knew whether he was mocking or not, in the ironical way he always had with her plainer mind. But the only thing was to be outspoken with him. "George, I wish you to believe whatever you think is true, at any and every cost. If I've tried to talk you into anything, I take it all back." "Oh, I know that, Editha. I know how sincere you are, and how--I wish I had your undoubting spirit! I'll think it over; I'd like to believe as you do. But I don't, now; I don't, indeed. It isn't this war alone; though this seems peculiarly wanton and needless; but it's every war--so stupid; it makes me sick. Why shouldn't this thing have been settled reasonably?" "Because," she said, very throatily again, "God meant it to be war." "You think it was God? Yes, I suppose that is what people will say." "Do you suppose it would have been war if God hadn't meant it?" "I don't know. Sometimes it seems as if God had put this world into men's keeping to work it as they pleased." "Now, George, that is blasphemy." "Well, I won't blaspheme. I'll try to believe in your pocket Providence," he said, and then he rose to go. "Why don't you stay to dinner?" Dinner at Balcom's Works was at one o'clock. "I'll come back to supper, if you'll let me. Perhaps I shall bring you a convert." "Well, you may come back, on that condition." "All right. If I don't come, you'll understand." He went away without kissing her, and she felt it a suspension of their engagement. It all interested her intensely; she was undergoing a tremendous experience, and she was being equal to it. While she stood looking after him, her mother came out through one of the long windows onto the veranda, with a catlike softness and vagueness. "Why didn't he stay to dinner?" "Because--because--war has been declared," Editha pronounced, without turning.