You'd better be running
back."
"Well--"
He stood irresolute, not sure that he wanted his dinner just then. It
would have amazed him to face the fact deliberately that perhaps he
preferred being with Dora Yocum to eating. However, he faced no such
fact, nor any fact, but lingered.
"Well--" he said again.
"You'd better go."
"I guess I can get my dinner pretty near any time. I don't--" He had a
thought. "Did you--"
"Did I what?"
"Did you have your dinner before I met you?"
"No."
"Well, aren't you--"
She shook her head. "I don't want any."
"Why not?"
"I don't think people have very much appetite to-day and yesterday," she
said, with the hint of a sad laugh, "all over America."
"No; I guess that's so."
"It's too terrible!" she said. "I can't sit and eat when I think of the
_Lusitania_--of all those poor, poor people strangling in the water--"
"No; I guess nobody can eat much, if they think about that."
"And of what it's going to bring, if we let it," she went on. "As if
this killing weren't enough, we want to add _our_ killing! Oh, that's
the most terrible thing of all--the thing it makes within us! Don't you
understand?"
She turned to him appealingly, and he felt queerer than ever.
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