A feeling of sickening fear swept the girl's heart. For the first time
in her life she was afraid to be alone on the brightly lighted streets
of Washington at dusk. The poison of death was in the air. Every
desperate passion that stirs the brute in man was written in the
bloodshot eyes that sought hers. The Nation was at war. To cheat,
deceive, entrap, maim, kill the enemy and lay his home in desolation was
the daily business now of the millions who backed the Government.
Whatever the lofty aims of either of the contending hosts, they sought
to win by war and this was war. It was not to be wondered at that this
spirit should begin to poison the springs of life in the minds of the
weak and send them forth to prey on their fellows. It was not to be
wondered at that men planned in secret to advance their own interests at
the expense of their fellows, to climb the ladder of wealth and fame in
this black hour no matter on whose dead bodies they had to walk.
With a pang of positive terror Betty asked herself the question whether
the man she loved had been touched by this deadly pestilence? A wave of
horror swept her. A drunken brute brushed by and thrust his bloated face
into hers.
With a cry of rage and fear she turned and ran for two blocks, left the
Avenue at the corner and hurried back to her home.
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