"Oh, but think of the comfort it will be to you, not having me on your mind all of the time. I shall not be lonesome, I shall not be afraid, I shall not be forever annoying you with selfish demands upon your good nature. You will have time to write without interruption. It will be for the best."
"No," said I, positively. "They were jolly parties, and I shall miss them."
She looked away quickly. "And, if all goes well, I shall soon be safely on my way to America. Then you will be rid of me completely."
I was startled. "You mean that there is a plan afoot to—to smuggle you out of the country?"
"Yes. And I fear I shall have to trouble you again when it comes to that. You must help me, Mr. Smart."
I nodded slowly. Help her to get away? I hadn't thought of that lately. The prospect left me rather cold and sick.
"I'll do all that I can, Countess."
She smiled faintly, but I was certain that I detected a challenge,—a rather unkind challenge,—in her eyes. "You will come to see me in New York, of course."
I shook my head. "I am afraid we are counting our chickens before they're hatched. One or the other of us may be in jail for the next few years."
"Heavens!"