"But didn't you want the somebody to be you?"
"No."
He looked at her again. "I suppose you're expecting to have Miss Greta back after the war."
"No," she said again, looking straight in front of her.
The thought of the solicitude of her parents to keep the dear child in the dark, suddenly flashed over him, along with the conviction, Madge knows!
Was it possible she accepted Greta's guilt? He couldn't make it out at all. "Weren't you sorry to see her go?"
"It was horrid," she admitted. After a few seconds she found a steadier voice in which to say, "It's been pretty horrid anyway, you know. We could prevent people from saying things, but we couldn't prevent them from looking things. They wanted her to be a disgusting spy. They hated her worse for not being."
"Why don't you want her back when the war is over?"
She drew her red eyebrows together in a frown. "I expect," she said slowly, "it will be best for Germans to stay at home."
Napier laughed, but he felt sorry, in a way, to see Wildfire growing so sage. Evidently she had gone through a great deal in these weeks, a great deal of which she had given no sign. Behind her homesickness for her idol, Napier detected a great relief at the idol's being out of the way of suspicion and misprizing.