"Does call me, you mean? Of course. An adventuress."
"To be quite frank, you've hit it. But I don't. I call you a jolly extraordinary and clever woman."
"Please don't pay me compliments," she said coldly. "My cleverness—if I have any—is not more than that of any hunted animal who seeks cover where best he can. As to my being extraordinary, I do not see that you have any reason to call me so. You might as well say that it is extraordinary when a weed springs up where a weed has been sown—"
"Or a flower," he interposed suavely.
She sank back in her seat, saying nothing. Her silence was a weary sort of protest.
Travers pulled out his watch with his free hand.
"We have only five minutes more," he said. "We are splendidly up to time. I tell you what, Miss Cary—you can eat Colonel Carmichael's dinner in peace." She looked quickly at him. "I mean that I shall hold my tongue. I don't know that I ever intended doing anything else. I am not responsible to society, and in any case, no direct blame for the past can attach itself to you. As it is, after your confidence, I give you my word that I'll do my best to see you through here. You deserve it, and I have always had a sneaking sympathy for the hunted fox and the much-abused weed. You can be quite easy in your mind."
"Thank you," she said without much warmth.
"I have only one condition—" he went on, and then hesitated.
"I was waiting for that," she said.