"I was born at Offenbach," he told her, "near Frankfurt. My father brought me out to America when I was eleven years old."
"You must find the present condition of things a little trying for you," she observed.
Oscar Fischer put on his glasses again. He did not answer for several moments.
"That opens up a subject, Miss Van Teyl," he said, "which some day I should like to discuss with you."
"Why not now?" she invited. "I feel much more inclined for conversation than reading."
"Tell me, then, to begin with," he asked thoughtfully, "on which side are your sympathies?"
"I try to do my duty as an American citizen," she replied promptly, "and that is to have no sympathies. Our dear country has set the world an example of what neutrality should be. I think it is the duty of us Americans to try and bring ourselves into exactly the same line of feeling."
He changed his position a little uneasily. His attitude became less of a sprawl. His eyes were fixed upon her face.
"I fear," he said, "that we are going to begin by a disagreement. I do not consider that America has realised in the least the duties of a neutral nation."
"You must explain that at once, if you please, before we go any further," Pamela insisted.