She asked softly: "Don't you think I did the wise thing to tell them I intended to travel as soon as I was acquitted? It surely would be in better taste than to settle down here—in that house!"
"Did you mean it? The intention would make a good impression on the public, certainly."
"Why, of course I meant it. I am not a good hand at saying things merely for effect."
"Where shall you go? Europe is rather impossible."
"Oh, not altogether. There is always Italy. And there is no danger from Zeppelins in the interior of Great Britain. And there is Spain—"
"I think Europe a very good place for women to keep away from until the war is over. Any of the nations may become involved at any minute—ourselves, for that matter. Better follow the advice of advertisers and see America first."
"Yes, I could visit the Expositions in California, and camp for a while in Glacier Park, and there are the Yellowstone and Grand Cañon—but all that would only consume a few months—and then there is this winter to think of. What I feel I should do is to stay away for a year, at least—"
"You could live very pleasantly in Southern California."
"I should be very conspicuous in those small fashionable settlements. The case has been telegraphed all over the country, and I have seen dreadful pictures of myself in several Western papers."
"Well, you might live quietly in New York until the war is over. There is no better place to hide—if you avoid the restaurants and theatres. And after all, even a cause célèbre is quickly forgotten if there is no aftermath. But I certainly advise against even sailing for Europe until peace is declared. There is always the danger of mines and too enthusiastic submarines."