“You are perfectly right,” she answered coolly.
“Your interest,” he proceeded, “is in the men and women toilers of the world, the people who carry on their shoulders the whole burden of life, and whose position you are continually desiring to ameliorate. I take it that your sympathy is international?”
“It is,” she assented
“People of this order in—say—Germany, excite your sympathy in the same degree?”
“Absolutely!”
“Therefore,” he propounded, “you are working for the betterment of the least considered class, whether it be German, Austrian, British, or French?”
“That also is true,” she agreed.
“I pursue my theory, then. The issue of this war leaves you indifferent, so long as the people come to their own?”
“My work for the last few weeks amongst those men of whom you have been speaking,” she pointed out, “should prove that.”
“We are through the wood and in the open, then,” he declared, with a little sigh of relief. “Now I am prepared to trade secrets with you. I am not a friend of this country. Neither my Chief nor my Government have the slightest desire to see England win the war.”