Ruth recollected swiftly Cynthia Gail’s connections through Hubert
Lennon’s aunt with Mrs. Corliss and she related them to Gerry Hull,
perforce; and this unavoidable deception distressed her more than
all the previous ones she had played. She realized that, in order to
understand what she had said, he was trying to understand her; and
she wished that she could tell him that she was Ruth Alden, working,
only as late as that morning, in Hilton Brothers’ office.
“You’re not like anyone else here,” he said, without pressing his
inquiry further. “Hub Lennon told me that he had a different sort of
girl with him. These other people are all like myself; you saw the
way they took what I said. They didn’t take it as said against them;
they’ve been in the war, heart and soul, since the first. You’ve
only come in when we--I mean America,” he corrected with a wince,
“came in. I think I felt that without knowing it; that’s why I
talked to you more than to all the rest together. That’s why I
needed to see you again; you’re more of an American, I guess, than
anyone else here.”
He said that with a touch of bitterness which prevented her offering
reply.
“You haven’t hurt me as me,” he denied. “If you just told me that my
country believed I was wrong and had been fighting for something
lower than it was willing to fight for until April, 1917, why that
would be all right. But what you have said is against the finest,
noblest, most chivalrous men the world ever knew--a good many of
them dead, now, fallen on the field of honor, Americans--Americans
of the highest heart, Norman Prince, Kiffen Rockwell, Vic Chapman,
and the rest! If being American means to wait, after you see beasts
like the Germans murdering women and children, until you’ve
satisfied your smug soul that everyone who’s fighting the beast is
just your sort, they weren’t Americans and I’m not an American
either, thank God!”
He arose from beside her in his overwhelming emotion; and she,
without knowing what she did, put out a hand, and caught his sleeve,
and pulled him down beside her again.
“Wait!” she almost commanded him. “I can’t have you misunderstand me
so! This morning when I woke up--it was before I knew I was to meet
you--I tried to imagine knowing you!”
“To tell me what you have?”
“To thank you for what you have done!”
“You’re a strange person!”
“Oh, I can’t explain everything even to myself!” Ruth cried. “I only
know that you--and the men you’ve mentioned--had the wonderful right
to do, of yourselves, fine and brave things before our country had
the right!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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