"Don't put it that way--it's her--age--first. It ain't what she wants and don't want; it's what she's got to have. My mother couldn't live away from me." "She could if you were called to war." There was something electric in the silence that followed, something that seemed to tighten the gaze of each for the other. "But I haven't been--yet." "The next draft will get you." "Maybe." "Well, what'll you do then?" "That's something me and ma haven't ever discussed. The war hasn't been mentioned in our house for two years--except that the letters don't come from Germany, and that's a grief to her. There's enough time for her to cross that bridge when we come to it. She worries about it enough." "If I was a man I'd enlist, I would!" "I'd give my right hand to. Every other night I dream I'm a lieutenant." "Why, there's not a fellow I know that hasn't beaten the draft to it and enlisted for the kind of service he wants. I know a half a dozen who have got in the home guard and things and have saved themselves by volunteering from being sent to France." "I wouldn't dodge the front thataway. I'd like to enlist as a private and then work myself up to lieutenant and then on up to captain and get right into the fray on the front. I--" "You bet, if I was a fellow, I'd enlist for the kind of home service I wanted--that's what Eddie and all the fellows are doing." "So would I, Clara, if I was what you call a--free man. There's nobody given it more thought than me." "Well, then, why don't you? Talk's cheap." "You know why, Clara, to get back to going around in a circle again." "But you've got to go, sooner or later. You've got a comfortable married sister and independent circumstances of your own to keep your mother; you haven't got a chance for exemption." "I don't want exemption." "Well, then, beat the draft to it." "I--Most girls ain't so anxious to--to get rid of their best fellows, Clara." "Silly! Can't you see the point? If--if you'd enlist and go off to camp, I--I could go and live near you there like Birdie Harberger does her husband. See?" "You mean--" "Then--God forbid anything should happen to you!--I'm your wife. You see, Sam?" "Why, Clara--" "You see what I mean. But nothing can happen this way, because if you try to enlist in some mechanical department where they need you in this country--you see, Sam? See?" "I--see." "Your mother would have to get used to things then, Sam--it would be the easiest for her. An old lady like her couldn't go trailing around the outskirts of a camp like your wife could. Think of the comfort it'll be to her to have me with you if she can't be. She'll get so used to--living alone--"