Her breath close to my ear—the girl's nearness, and the sweet, fresh youth of her, all were doing the business for me.
"Thusis?"
"Yes?"
"Lean nearer. I want to whisper to you."
She inclined her dainty head: the fragrance of her hair interfered with my articulation:
"My country," said I, "is not likely to go to war.... But I am."
She said, smilingly: "The fine army of Chile is organized and disciplined on the German plan. Doubtless this fact, and the influence of German drill-masters, prejudices many Chileans in favor of entering this war."
I placed my lips close to her little ear:
"Don't be silly," I whispered.
At that she straightened up with a breathless little laugh and sat looking at me.