"You talk at times singularly like an American for one who left here at the age of two."
"Remember that my family went with me. Moreover, Mary and I always talked English together—American if you like. She was intensely proud of being an American. We read all the American novels, as I told you. They are an education in the idiom, permanent and passing. Moreover, I was always meeting Americans."
"Were you? Well, the greater number of them must be in New York at the present moment. No doubt they would be glad to relieve your loneliness."
"I am not in the least lonely and I have not the least desire to see any of them. Only one thing would induce me—if I thought it would be possible to raise a large amount of money for the women and children of Austria."
"Ah! You would take the risk, then?"
"Risk? They were the most casual acquaintances. They probably have forgotten me long since. I had not left Hungary for a year before the war, and one rarely meets an American in Pesth Society—two or three other American women had married Hungarians, but they preferred Vienna and I preferred Europeans. I knew them only slightly.… Moreover, there are many Zattianys. It is an immense connection."
"You mean you believe you would be safe," he caught her up.
"Mon dieu! You make me feel as if I were on the stand. But yes, quite safe."
"And you really believe that any one could ever forget you?"
"I am not as vain as you seem to think."