"I am not permitted to express opinions," said the major, simply. "You wanted immediate war because you are young and easily moved. Perhaps because you have not thought deeply what war means. I take it you are impulsive.... Have you asked yourself _why_ you want war? Was it mere resentment? That isn't an excuse for war. Was it the adventure of it? Or was it possibly something bigger and deeper? What do you think of the United States, anyhow?" Potter did not reply immediately. What _did_ he think about the United States? He did not know. As a matter of fact, he had done very little thinking about the United States; had rather taken the United States for granted. Somehow he felt embarrassed by the question. "Do you perhaps _love_ your country?" asked the major. From another man Potter might have regarded this question as a symptom of mawkish sentimentality. From the major it seemed natural, unaffected, as if the major had the right to ask such a question and have a plain answer. Craig waited for Potter to answer, his face grave, gentle; his bearing sympathetic. Potter felt the sympathy, felt that he and this officer could grow to be friends. "Why," said Potter, presently, "I don't know." The major nodded his head. "I'm afraid that's the way with most of us--we don't know. We're thinking about ourselves and our businesses and about making money and passing the time. We have grown unconscious of the country just as we are unconscious of the air we breathe. That's hardly a state of mind to carry us into war, is it?" "No," said Potter. "Because war requires love of country," said the major. "Not the love of country that orators talk about on July Fourth, but the kind of love that is willing to prove itself. War, Mr. Waite, means sacrifices such as we do not even dream of. It means that love of country must take place over everything else. Not a stingy loyalty, but a real _love_--the sort that gives life and everything one possesses to the country. Mr. Waite, if we should go to war to-morrow and your country should come to you and say, 'I want your life. I want everything you possess in the world--wealth, comfort, place. I need _everything_ to win this war,' what would you say? Would you give willingly and gladly? I mean what I say literally." Potter stopped and faced his companion a moment in silence. "Could you?" he asked. "I think I could," said Craig. "I think my country means all that to me." "Why?" "That you will have to find out for yourself. I can't teach you patriotism, love of country, in half an hour, nor in a course of twenty lessons. I couldn't teach you to love a woman. Each man must find those things for himself." "I suppose so," said Potter, uneasily, and they walked along together in silence.