"Yes—dear?"
A slight flush came into his haggard face; he hesitated, looked up at her where she was kneeling on the sofa beside him. "Dear," he said gently, "I have never intended that you should carry those papers to your father, or to anybody else."
"I don't quite understand you."
"Try to understand. I am a friend to England—even a closer friend to—Belgium."
"I know. But you are my friend, too."
"Devotedly, Karen." He took hold of her hand; she slipped down to the sofa and settled there beside him with a little air of confidence which touched and troubled him.
"I am your friend," he said. "But there is another friendship that demands first of all the settlement of prior obligations. And, if these obligations conflict with any others, the others must give way, Karen."
"What do you mean?"
"The obligations of friendship—of—of affection—these must give way before a duty more imperative."
"What duty?"