I was wrong. I was wrong,
because war isn't the worst evil. Slavery is the worse evil, and now
I want to tell you I have come to see that you are making war on those
that make slavery. Yes, you are fighting those that make both war and
slavery, and you are right, and I humbly reverence and honour all of
you who are in this right war. I have come home to work in the Red Cross
here; I work there all day, and all day I keep saying to myself--but I
really mean to _you_--it's what I pray, and oh, how I pray it: "God be
with you and grant you the victory!" For you must win and you will win.
Forgive me, oh, please--and if you will, could you write to me? I know
you have things to do more important than "girls"--but oh, couldn't you,
please?
This letter, which she had taken care not to dampen, as she wrote, went
in slow course to the "American Expeditionary Forces in France," and
finally found him whom it patiently sought. He delayed not long to
answer, and in time she held in a shaking hand the pencilled missive he
had sent her.
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