She loved him so, that when he went away to a little war in which his
country was interested she could not understand, nor quite forgive.
As the correspondent of a newspaper, Chesterton had looked on at
other wars; when the yellow races met, when the infidel Turk spanked the
Christian Greek; and one he had watched from inside a British square,
where he was greatly alarmed lest he should be trampled upon by terrified
camels. This had happened before he and she had met. After they met,
she told him that what chances he had chosen to take before he came into
her life fell outside of her jurisdiction. But now that his life belonged to
her, this talk of his standing up to be shot at was wicked. It was worse
than wicked; it was absurd.
When the Maine sank in Havana harbor and the word "war" was
appearing hourly in hysterical extras, Miss Armitage explained her
position.
"You mustn\'t think," she said, "that I am one of those silly girls who
would beg you not to go to war."