Kurt trembled and a hot rush of tears dimmed his eyes.

All at once his lot seemed unbearable.

An immeasurable barrier had arisen between him and his old father--a hideous thing of blood, of years, of ineradicable difference; the broad acres of wheatland so dear to him were to be taken from him; love had overcome him with headlong rush, a love that could never be returned; and cruelest of all, there was the war calling him to give up his home, his father, his future, and to go out to kill and to be killed.
It came to him while he leaned there, that, remembering the light of Lenore Anderson's eyes, he could not give up to bitterness and hatred, whatever his misfortunes and his fate.

She would never be anything to him, but he and her brother Jim and many other young Americans must be incalculable all to her.

That thought saved Kurt Dorn.