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Sinclair, Upton, 1878-1968

"They Call Me Carpenter"

I have seen the picture several
times, and can talk about it with you just as well."
"You make me ashamed of myself," I cried--"and of my country!"
"No, no! It is what you should expect. It is what I had in mind when
I spoke of the surgeon contracting the disease. We German
intellectuals know what war means; we are used to things like this."
Suddenly he put out his hand. "Good-bye."
"I will go with you!" I exclaimed. But he protested--that would
embarrass him greatly. I would please to stay, and see the picture;
he would be interested later on to hear my opinion of it. And
abruptly he turned, and walked off, leaving me hesitating and angry.
At last I started towards the entrance of the theatre. One of the
men in uniform barred my way. "No admittance here!"
"But why not?"
"It's a German show, and we aint a-goin' to allow it."
"Now see here, buddy," I countered, none too good-naturedly, "I
haven't got my uniform on, but I've as good a right to it as you; I
was all through the Argonne."
"Well, what do you want to see Hun propaganda for?"
"Maybe I want to see what it's like.


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