"Most of the fellows I know over there are doing something. I'd
like to run over, but what's the use? Nobody around, street's
dark, no gayety, nothing."

"No. You'd better stay at home. They - don't particularly want
visitors, anyhow."

"Unless they go for war contracts, eh?" said Valentine pleasantly,
a way he had of taking the edge off the frequent impertinence of
his speech. "No, I'm not going over. We're not popular over
there, I understand. Keep on thinking we ought to take a hand in
the dirty mess."

Graham spoke, unexpectedly.

"Well, don't you think we ought?"

"If you want my candid opinion, no. We've been waving a red flag
called the Monroe Doctrine for some little time, as a signal that
we won't stand for Europe coming over here and grabbing anything.
If we're going to be consistent, we can't do any grabbing in
Europe, can we?"

Clayton eyed him rather contemptuously.

"We might want to 'grab' as you term it, a share in putting the
madmen of Europe into chains," he said. "I thought you were
pro-British, Chris."

"Only as to clothes, women and filet of sole," Chris returned