“Well, no, she didn’t,” Jimmy admitted, reluctantly, “but then I left them in a moment, and she may have told Mrs. Chester later.”
“Why didn’t you ask her about it the next time you saw her?”
“I didn’t think it was exactly my business. Miss Gretel had a right to speak to a friend in the street, even if he did happen to be a German.”
“Everything is our business in war time,” said Ada, virtuously. “We ought to investigate everything that seems in the least suspicious.”
“But there may not have been anything suspicious about this,” Jimmy objected.
“Not if she had mentioned it afterwards, of course, but I think her not saying anything to Mrs. Chester about having met a friend was decidedly queer. I shall ask her to explain the next time we meet.”
“Please don’t do anything of the sort,” urged the young man, reddening. “She would have every right to consider me an impertinent meddler. I am sorry I ever mentioned the matter at all.”
Jimmy was looking very much distressed, and Ada—who was not without a goodly share of coquetry in her nature—began to see an opportunity for teasing.
“Perhaps I won’t say anything to Gretel,” she conceded, “if you are very nice to me all the rest of the evening, but if you dance any more with that silly little Geraldine Barlow, who is really much too young to be here at all, I won’t promise what I may do. Of course I know Gretel is really all right, but I am terribly curious about that German.”
Having finished their dance, Gretel and Stephen made their way to the crowded supper room. They were very warm, and rather tired, and the prospect of ices and lemonade was very alluring.