"What is it, Van? What has happened? It is time for you to go to bed. I remember--something bad has happened. What is it, Van? Oh, I know now!" She shuddered as I lifted her from the lounge. "I remember now what it is. You love that woman, but I can't let you go. I can't bear it. I can't live without you!" "That will never come so long as there is life for us both," I promised. She drew her arm tight about my neck. "Yes! You must love me a little always." CHAPTER XXIV WAR _Wall street and the people of the country--Collateral--I decide to go home--Slocum finds that I am a patriot--I plan to enlist--Hardman once more--Claims--A midnight problem--The telegram_ War! That was what was in the air those days. It had muttered on for months, giving our politicians at Washington something to mouth about in their less serious hours. Then came the sinking of the _Maine_ in Havana Harbor, and even Wall Street could see that the country was drifting fast into war. And in their jackal fashion, the men of Wall Street were trying to make money out of this crisis of their country, starting rumors from those high in authority to run the prices of their goods up and down. To those men who had honest interests at stake it was a terrible time for panic, for uncertainty. One could never guess what might happen over night. But throughout the land, among the common people, the question at issue had been heard and judged. The farmer on his ranch, the laborer in his factory, the hand on the railroad--the men of the land up and down the States--had judged this question. When the time came their judgment got itself recorded; for any big question is settled just that way by those men, not at Washington or in Wall Street. The sick spirit of our nation needed just this tonic of a generous war, fought not for our own profit. It would do us good to give ourselves for those poor Cuban dogs. The Jew spirit of Wall Street doesn't rule this country, after all, and Wall Street doesn't understand that the millions in the land long to hustle sometimes for something besides their own bellies. So, although Wall Street groaned, I had a kind of faith that war would be a good thing, cost what it might.