“A German,” said his sister, “yes. But what difference does that make? He is a German, but he is also a Canadian. We are all Canadians here whatever else we may be or have ever been. We are all sorts and classes, high and low, rich and poor, and of all nationalities--Germans, French, Swedes, Galicians, Russians--but we all shake down into good Canadian citizens. We are just Canadians, and that is good enough for me. We are loyal to Canada first.” “You may be right as far as other nationalities are concerned, but, Sybil, believe me, you do not know the German. I know him and there is no such thing as a German loyal to Canada first.” “But, Jack, you are so terribly insular. You must really get rid of all that. I used to think like you, but here we have got to the place where we can laugh at all that sort of thing.” “I know, Sybil. I know. They are laughing in England to-day at Roberts and Charlie Beresford. But I know Germany and the German mind and the German aim and purpose, and I confess to you that I am in a horrible funk at the state of things in our country. And this chap Switzer--you say he has been in Germany for two years? Well, he has every mark characteristic of the German. He reproduces the young German that I have seen the world over--in Germany, in the Crown Prince's coterie (don't I know them?), in South Africa, in West Africa, in China. He has every mark, the same military style, the same arrogant self-assertion, the same brutal disregard of the ordinary decencies.” “Why, Jack, how you talk! You are actually excited.” “Did you not notice his manner with that girl? He calmly took possession of her and ignored us who were of her party, actually isolated her from us.” “But, Jack, this seems to me quite outrageous.” “Yes, Sybil, and there are more like you. But I happen to know from experience what I am talking about. The elementary governing principle of life for the young German of to-day is very simple and is easily recognised, and it is this: when you see anything you want, go for it and take it, no matter if all the decencies of life are outraged.” “Jack, I cannot, frankly, I cannot agree with you in regard to young Switzer. I know him fairly well and--” “Let's not talk about it, Sybil,” said her brother, quietly. “Oh, all right, Jack.” They rode on in silence, Romayne gloomily keeping his eye on the trail before him until they neared the Gwynne gate, when the young man exclaimed abruptly: “My God, it would be a crime!” “Whatever do you mean, Jack?” “To allow that brute to get possession of that lovely girl.” “But, Jack,” persisted his sister. “Brute?” “Sybil, I have seen them with women, their own and other women; and, now listen to me, I have yet to see the German who regards or treats his frau as an English gentleman treats his wife. That is putting it mildly.” “Oh, Jack!” “It ought to be stopped.” “Well, stop it then.” “I wish to God I could,” said her brother. CHAPTER VIII YOU FORGOT ME