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“And all the fathers and mothers. I could pretty nearly say: ‘Thank God your mother is not living!’ ”

Stacey nodded grave assent. “The individual’s gone by the board.” After which silence fell upon both men.

At last the older man drew himself together. “What army?” he asked. “The French?”

“No, I thought of that, since I speak French decently,” said his son briskly, glad of the change in mood. “But I rather think—though I’m not sure—that I’d have to join the Foreign Legion there. And sacrifice is all very well, you know, but it needn’t be suicide. I mean to come back alive if I can do so honorably. And of course I’ve thought of the Canadian army. But there’s too much neighborly dislike between Canadians and Americans. So I’m going into the English army, if they’ll take me. I’ve a lot of friends in England, you know. I’ve visited some of them at their homes. They’ll all be in as officers. Perhaps I can get into some regiment where I’ll be under one of them.”

“And you leave?”

“Next Wednesday. I’ll catch the ‘Mauretania.’ Don’t be angry with me, sir,” he begged.