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Sinclair, Bertrand W., 1881-1972

"Burned Bridges"

I've got primitive again. Damn
the Central Powers! If I had seven sons I'd send them all to the front."
They had another drink.
"Did you go and say good-by to Sophie?" Carr demanded suddenly.
"I saw her, but I don't think I said good-by," Thompson said absently.
He was thinking about Carr's surprising outburst. He agreed precisely
with what the old man said. But he had not suspected the old radical of
such intensity. "I didn't tell her I was going."
"You didn't tell her," Carr persisted. "Why not?"
"For a variety of reasons." He found it hard to assume lightness with
those shrewd old eyes searchingly upon him. "You can tell her good-by
for me. Well, let's have a last one. It'll be a good many moons before
you and I look over a glass at each other again. If I don't come back
I'll be in honorable company. And I'll give them hell while I last."
Carr walked with him down to the train.
"When the war broke out," he said to Thompson at the coach steps, "if
you had proposed to go I should privately have considered you a damned
idealistic fool. Now I envy you. You will never have to make apologies
to yourself for yourself, nor to your fellows. If I strike a blow that a
free people may remain free to work out their destiny in their own
fashion, I must do it by proxy.


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