"It's sort of goin' back on our only excuse for existing," put in Randolph. "In exchange for all the quiet and the civilisation and the beauty of ordered lives that Europeans gave up in going to the new world we gave them opportunity to earn luxury, and, infinitely more important, freedom from the past, that gangrened ghost of the past that is killing Europe to-day with its infection of hate and greed of murder. "America has turned traitor to all that, you see; that's the way we look at it. Now we're a military nation, an organised pirate like France and England and Germany." "But American idealism? The speeches, the notes?" cried Lully, catching the edge of the table with his two brown hands. "Camouflage," said Martin. "You mean it's insincere?" "The best camouflage is always sincere." Dubois ran his hands through his hair. "Of course, why should there be any difference?" he said. "Oh, we're all dupes, we're all dupes. Look, Lully, old man, fill up the Americans' glasses." "Thanks." "And I used to believe in liberty," said Martin. He raised his tumbler and looked at the candle through the pale yellow champagne. On the wall behind him, his arm and hand and the tumbler were shadowed huge in dusky lavender blue. He noticed that his was the only tumbler. "I am honoured," he said; "mine is the only glass." "And that's looted," said Merrier. "It's funny ..." Martin suddenly felt himself filled with a desire to talk. "All my life I've struggled for my own liberty in my small way. Now I hardly know if the thing exists." "Exists? Of course it does, or people wouldn't hate it so," cried Lully. "I used to think," went on Martin, "that it was my family I must escape from to be free; I mean all the conventional ties, the worship of success and the respectabilities that is drummed into you when you're young." "I suppose everyone has thought that...." "How stupid we were before the war, how we prated of small revolts, how we sniggered over little jokes at religion and government. And all the while, in the infinite greed, in the infinite stupidity of men, this was being prepared." André Dubois was speaking, puffing nervously at a cigarette between phrases, now and then pulling at his beard with a long, sinewy hand.