"Perhaps she is taking up the German-American cause, then," Lutchester suggested. "It is a possible platform, at any rate."
"I foresee a new party," Pamela murmured thoughtfully. "Now I come to think of it, Mr. Elsworthy, the fat old gentleman who knew your uncle, is very pro-German."
He leaned towards her.
"We have had enough politics," he insisted. "There is the other thing.
Couldn't I have my answer?"
She let him take her fingers. In the cool darkness through which they were rushing her face seemed white, her head was a little averted. He tried to draw her to him, but she was unyielding.
"Please not," she begged. "I like you—and I'm glad I like you," she added, "but I don't feel certain about anything. Couldn't we be just friends a little longer?"
"It must be as you say, but I am horribly in love with you," he confessed. "That may sound rather a bald way of saying so, but it's the truth, Pamela, dear."
His clasp upon her fingers was tightened. She turned towards him. Her expression was serious but delightful.
"Well, let me tell you this much, at least," she confided. "I have never before in my life been so glad to hear any one say so…. And here we are at home, and there's Jimmy on the doorstep. What is it, Jimmy," she asked, waving her hand.
He came down towards her in a state of great excitement.