Although the reasons for doing this seemed absurdly simple to him, the
decision had been a difficult one. He was a pacifist--saw no virtue
in war whatsoever. He wished to convert others to his opinion--unlike
many reformers who prefer to discuss questions only with those who
already agree with them. He argued that the speeches of a man who had
been through war, or, better still, the posthumous writings of one who
has been killed in war, would have more weight with the public than
the best logic of one who had held aloof. But his radical friends felt
that he was using this argument merely as an excuse for choosing
the easy path of conformity, while the few ultraconservatives who
mentioned the matter at all assumed that he had been drafted against
his will. Afterward, when the war was over and his terrible book,
_War_, appeared, no one was pleased, for the excellent reason that it
was published at a moment when the whole world wanted to forget
war entirely. The pay of a private, however, had not allowed him to
continue David's allowance, and so David, displaying unusual energy,
had found a job for himself as tutor for the summer to William Cord's
son. Ben had not quite approved of a life that seemed to him slightly
parasitical, but it was healthy and quiet and, above everything, David
had found it for himself, and initiative was so rare in the younger
man that Ben could not bear to crush it with disapproval.

Increasingly, during the two years he was in France, Ben was
displeased by David's letters. The Cords were described as kindly,
well-educated people, fond one of another, considerate of the tutor,
with old-fashioned traditions of American liberties. Ben asked himself
if he would have been better pleased if David's employers had
been cruel, vulgar, and blatant, and found the answer was in the
affirmative. It would, he thought, have been a good deal safer for