She glanced up at me curiously; something in my face appeared to sober her, for the amused smile on her lips faded before I spoke.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I am sorry to tell you,” I said—“sorry from my heart. You are not very friendly to me, and that 357 makes it harder for me to say what I have to say.”
She was watching me intently out of her pretty, intelligent eyes.
“What do you mean?” she asked, guardedly.
“I mean that you cannot stay here,” I said. “And you know why.”
The color flooded her face, and she stood up, confronting me, exasperated, defiant.
“Will you explain this insult?” she asked, hotly.
“Yes. You are a German spy,” I said, under my breath.
There was no color in her face now—nothing but a glitter in her blue eyes and a glint from the small, white teeth biting her lower lip.