"Running away, too!" he repeated. "Are you running away?"
"As fast as ever the train can carry me. I am on the way to Dresden."
"Dresden? It seems that Fate is determined that we shall travel together this day. Dresden is my destination also."
"Let me see your passports,"—extending a firm white hand.
He obeyed docilely, as docilely as though he were married. She gave the paper one angry glance and tossed it back.
"George Ellis; so that is your name?"—scornfully. "You told me that it was Scharfenstein. I did not ask you to tell me your name; you took that service upon yourself." She recalled the duke's declaration that he should have her every movement watched. If this American was watching her, the duke was vastly more astute than she had given him the credit for being. "Are you in the pay of the duke? Come, confess that you have followed me, that you have been watching me for these four days." How bitter the cup of romance tasted to her now! She had been deceived. "Well, you shall never take me from this train save by force. I will not go back!"
"I haven't the slightest idea of what you are talking about," he said, mightily discouraged. "I never saw this country till Monday, and never want to see it again."
"From what are you running away then?"—skeptically.
"I am running away from a man who slapped me in the face,"—bitterly; and all his wrongs returned to him.
"Indeed!"—derisively.