" She stopped speaking to draw in her breath with a
sharp sigh. "Ah, don't you remember what I've told you all along? How
it keeps coming closer and closer--and now it's almost here! Isn't it
_unthinkable?_ And what can we do to stop it, we poor few who feel that
we _must_ stop it?"
"Well--" Ramsey began uncomfortably. "Of course I--I--"
"You can't do much," she said. "I know. None of us can. What can any
little group do? There are so few of us among the undergraduates--and
only one in the whole faculty. All the rest are for war. But we mustn't
give up; we must never feel afterward that we left anything undone; we
must fight to the last breath!"
"'Fight'?" he repeated wonderingly, then chuckled.
"Oh, as a figure of speech," she said, impatiently. "Our language
is full of barbaric figures left over from the dark ages. But, oh,
Ramsey!"--she touched his sleeve--"I've heard that Fred Mitchell is
saying that he's going to Canada after Easter, to try to get into the
Canadian aviation corps. If it's true, he's a dangerous firebrand, I
think.
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