"It's all of them, I think: but you mustn't ask me to tell you why."
"Why mustn't I?"
"Because I can't do it and keep my promise to tell you the truth."
"That is frank, at least," she retorted. "I hope you are not a conscience-stricken train-robber, or a murderer, or anything of that kind."
"Hardly," Brockway replied, helping himself to another sandwich; "but you would be quite horrified if I should tell you what I have really done."
"Do you think so? You might try me and see," she said, half pleading and half jesting.
Brockway thought about it for a moment.
"I'll do it—on one condition."
"You ought to be ashamed to propose conditions to me. What is it?"
"That you will tell me quite as truthfully why you agreed with me about the abolition of the to-morrows."