"They won't give you any," he explained. "Besides, they won't carry you on the train unless you put on a uniform."
"Monte!"
"It's a fact."
"Then—what am I to do?"
She looked quite helpless—deliciously helpless.
He laughed joyously.
"You are bankrupt," he said. "So am I. We have only fifty-five dollars between us. But that is something. Also there is the machine. That will take us over the Italian frontier and to Genoa. I ought to be able to sell it there for something. Come on."
"Where?" she asked.
"We must get the car as soon as possible. I have a notion that with every passing hour it is going to be more difficult to get out."
"But I'm not going with you, Monte. It's—it's impossible!"