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Dangerous Days by Mary Roberts Rinehart
page 40 of 538 (07%)
"I've just been saying, Mr. Spencer," he said, in good English, but
with the guttural accent which thirty years in America had not
eliminated, "that I'll be leaving you now."

"Leaving! Why?"

"Because of that l" He pointed, without intentional drama, at the
shell-case. "I can't make those shells for you, Mr. Spencer, and
me a German."

"You're an American, aren't you?"

"I am, sir. It is not that. It iss that I - " His face worked.
He had dropped back to the old idiom, after years of painful
struggle to abandon it. "It iss that I am a German, also. I have
people there, in the war. To make shells to kill them - no."

"He is determined, Mr. Spencer," said Hutchinson. "I have been
arguing with him, but - you can't argue with a German."

Clayton was uneasily aware of something like sympathy for the man.

"I understand how you feel, Klein," he observed. "But of course
you know, whether you go or stay, the shells will be made, anyhow."

"I know that."

"You are throwing up a good position."

"I'll try to get another."
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