She came toward him with outstretched hand.
"May I speak with you for a few minutes, John?" she asked.
His first impulse to protest against her reckless disregard of propriety died away on his lips. Something on her white earnest face touched him—all the more perhaps because it linked itself with his own mood. He brought a chair—his own, for the room boasted of but one.
"Are you angry?" she asked again, looking up at him.
"At your coming? No. At another time I might have warned you that it was not wise, but I feel sure you would not have run so much risk without a serious and adequate reason."
She nodded.
"Yes, I have a very serious reason," she said. "Have you time to spare?"
"All the morning."
"Were you on duty last night?"
"For the best part."