His father who had been fifty years in the United States! How simple, then, to understand what was wrong with Germany.
"By God! I am--American!" he panted, and it was as if he called to the grave of his mother, over there on the dark, windy hill.
That tremendous uprising of his passion had been a vortex, an end, a decision.

And he realized that even to that hour there had been a drag in his blood.

It was over now.

The hell was done with.

His soul was free.