"Look, madam," he said ironically. "Three of 'em, Military Medal, Military Cross, _Croix de Guerre_. They don't give you these trinkets for looking wise and talking about other people's patriotic duty. They give them to you for killing men, as a rule. That's all war is, just killing. For the stunt by which I earned this French thing I should be execrated in any civilized community. And I didn't do it to earn a decoration, nor in any spirit of heroism, I can assure you. I was caught like a rat in a trap. I was responsible for the lives of other men. I was frantic with rage and fear. I won't shock you by describing what I did. It made me sick afterward. I tell you I have a strong stomach and it made me sick to think about it. And they gave me a medal. Pah!" he snorted contemptuously. "People like you talking about the great privilege of having participated in the war. You're as bad as the Germans. Go to some slaughter-house and watch pigs and sheep die with squeals and bleats and blood spurting out of their throats. Substitute men for pigs and sheep, and you have war. Of course, if you have a butcher's instincts, you take to it as a pastime." Mrs. Emmert was evidently making one of those formal calls which do not permit the visiting female to lay aside her wraps. She rose now, fully caparisoned in her furs; and her dignity. "I have never been so insulted in my life," she declared. "I consider your remarks to be positively seditious." And with that she swept majestically to the door,--not, however, without a sidelong glance at Isabel Wall. That young lady, to Rod's surprise merely smiled, shook her head, and murmured: "Sorry. But it doesn't arouse my righteous indignation." The door closed with a slam. Mary, who had risen, resumed her seat and smiled. Andy Hall stood up. He pocketed the decorations. His face was slightly flushed. "I expect," he said, "I'd better be on my way. You see, when I come across such persons, I blow up. I can't help it. I'm on one side of the fence. People like that are on the other. When some silk-upholstered fool starts drooling sentimental tosh about the war and mouthing intellectual abc's as positive wisdom, I simply get red-eyed. I don't really belong on your side of the fence, and I'm just bone-headed enough to be glad I don't, if many people like that graze in your pastures." "Sit down, Andy, and be calm," Rod laughed. "There isn't any fence so far as we're concerned. Sit down and have a cigarette. Dinner will be ready soon. Forget the fat woman. She doesn't know any better." "Room for one more at the festive board?" Isabel inquired. "Of course," Mary replied. "There always is." "I wonder," Isabel turned her bland, childlike prettiness on Andy Hall. "I wonder if Mr. Hall knows how fierce he looks when he is angry? Is that an expression you cultivate in the army, Mr. Hall?"