But she still stood.
“I am a prisoner, not a guest.”
“Then I command you to sit,” he said with a laugh. “Won’t you?”
A sound of exasperation came from her throat and she obeyed him, her gaze on the sea, while with some ostentation he covered her with a rug.
“What are you going to do with me in Germany?” she repeated dully.
He sank into the chair beside her. “As I have often told you, you are a woman of rare intelligence. In reply I can only say that, unfortunately, I do not know.”
“A coward who is also a—a liar,” she said bitterly.
“A coward is usually a liar, but a liar isn’t always a coward. I am a liar, Doris, if you will, but a courageous one.”
“My name is Mather,” she said distinctly.