She spoke with sudden fire and energy, and Prescott noticed again that abrupt stiffening of the figure. He saw, too, another curious effect—her eyes suddenly turned from dark-blue to black, an invariable change when she was moved by a passion.
"It is always safe for a woman to abuse a man," replied Prescott calmly.
"I am not attacking you, but the cause you serve—a hateful cause. How can honest men fight for it?" she said.
Prescott heard footsteps in the main street—it was not many yards from there to the point in the little side street where he stood—and he shrank back in the shadow of the fence.
"You do not wish to be seen with me," she said.
"Naturally," replied Prescott. "I might have to answer inquiries about you, and I do not wish to compromise myself."
"Nor me?" she said.
"Perhaps it is too late for that," replied Prescott.
Her face flushed scarlet, and again he saw that sudden change of the eyes from dark-blue to threatening black. It occurred to him then that she was handsome in a singular, challenging way.