She passed the question to me with a little gesture. I told him.
"British," he observed. "She's been asking you about getting out of the country? About passports?" He smiled pleasantly. "She likes to start running away. Don't you, baby?" His small hand began to stroke her wrist, the fingers bent a little, the tendons ridged, as if he were about to grab and twist.
"Look here," I said sharply. "I have to be grateful to you for ordering off those bullies, but—"
"Think nothing of it," he told me. "They're no harm except when they're behind steering wheels. A well-trained fourteen-year-old girl could cripple any one of them. Why, even Theda here, if she went in for that sort of thing...." He turned to her, shifting his hand from her wrist to her hair. He stroked it, letting the strands slip slowly through his fingers. "You know I lost tonight, baby, don't you?" he said softly.
I stood up. "Come along," I said to her. "Let's leave."
She just sat there. I couldn't even tell if she was trembling. I tried to read a message in her eyes through the mask.
"I'll take you away," I said to her. "I can do it. I really will."
He smiled at me. "She'd like to go with you," he said. "Wouldn't you, baby?"
"Will you or won't you?" I said to her. She still just sat there.