Retrieving her cracker, the guest finished her meal, heartily but thoughtfully. She insisted on lending a hand to the washing-up process, and complimented Banneker on his neatness.
“You haven’t told me your name yet,” he reminded her when the last shining tin was hung up.
“No; I haven’t. What will you do with it when you get it?”
“Report it to the company for their lists.”
“Suppose I don’t want it reported to the company?’
“Why on earth shouldn’t you?”
“I may have my reasons. Would it be put in the papers?”
“Very likely.”
“I don’t want it in the papers,” said the girl with decision.
“Don’t you want it known that you’re all right? Your people—”