"Listen to me," she said, rapidly. "I cannot be frank with you—"
"I've noticed that," Laurie interpolated, "with regret."
She ignored the interruption.
"But I can tell you this much. I am not alone in my—trouble. Others are involved. They are—desperate. It is because of them that I—you understand?"
Laurie shook his head. He did not understand, at all; but vague and unpleasant memories of newspaper stories about espionage and foreign spies suddenly filtered through his mind.
"It sounds an awful mess," he said frankly. "If it's got anything to do with German propaganda—"
She interrupted with a gesture of impatience.
"No, no!" she cried. "I am not a German or a propagandist, or a pacifist or a spy. That much, at least, I can tell you."
"Then that's all right!" Laurie glanced at his watch again. "If you had been a German spy," he added, "with a little round knob of hair on the back of your head and bombs in every pocket, I couldn't have had much to do with you, I really couldn't. But as you and your companions are not involved in that kind of thing, I am forced to remind you that you'll be headed toward the station in just one minute."
"I hate you!" she said between her teeth.