This particular war, of course, must be stopped: if it were not already
too late. It would be a war for markets; for spheres of commercial
influence; a sordid war that would degrade the people. War, the supreme
test of a nation's worth, must be reserved for great ideals. Besides,
she wanted to down Carleton.
One of the women on her list, and the one to whom Mrs. Denton appeared to
attach chief importance, a Madame de Barante, disappointed Joan. She
seemed to have so few opinions of her own. She had buried her young
husband during the Franco-Prussian war. He had been a soldier. And she
had remained unmarried. She was still beautiful.
"I do not think we women have the right to discuss war," she confided to
Joan in her gentle, high-bred voice. "I suppose you think that out of
date. I should have thought so myself forty years ago. We talk of
'giving' our sons and lovers, as if they were ours to give. It makes me
a little angry when I hear pampered women speak like that. It is the men
who have to suffer and die. It is for them to decide.
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