"I have chosen," said Clelia, "if he wants me."
Thusis clenched her hands and stood there twisting them, dumb, excited, laboring evidently under the most intense emotion.
And what all this business was about I had not the remotest notion.
Suddenly Thusis turned fiercely on her sister with a gesture that left her outflung arm rigid.
"Do you wish to find the irresponsible political level of those two Bolsheviki in there?" she said with breathless passion. "Are you really the iconoclast you say you are? I did not believe it! I can't. The world moves only through decent procedure, or it disintegrates. Where is your reason, your logic, your pride?"
"Pride?" Clelia smiled and looked at Smith: "In him, I think.... Since he has become my master."
"He is not our master!" retorted Thusis. "If what we came here to do is now impossible—thanks to a meddling and misled gentleman in Rome—is there not a sharper blow to strike at this treacherous Greek King and his Prussian wife and that vile, Imperial Hun who pulls the strings that move them?"
Clelia looked at Smith: "Do you know what my sister means?"
"Yes."
"Will you stop us even there?"