"You ought to," Danniels said. "You're from there."
She was tired. It was a moment before she could continue fighting. "That's foolish—"
He hadn't been sure. If she hadn't hesitated he might have given up the notion.
"That getup was what was foolish," Danniels snorted. "Anybody would know you were trying to hide something as soon as they found out the masquerade."
"You wouldn't have found it out," she said, "if one of that Pack hadn't torn my jacket off."
"I really don't know. It might be animal magnetism, if there is such a thing. But I can't be around a woman for long without knowing it. I repeat: why?"
"I—I didn't know what they would do to a girl outside."
"For Peace sake, why did you have to come out at all?"
The girl was silent for a mile.
"Most Chicagoans think the rest of the world has reverted to barbarism," she told him.