"Why, Monica!" she exclaimed in horror—and her speech was that of the United States—"what on earth ...?"
"Not a word, Mary, but let me explain...."
"But for land's sake, Monica...."
"Mary, I want you to help...."
"But say, child, a man ... in my bedroom ... at this time o' night...."
"Oh, shucks, Mary! let me talk."
The distress of the woman in bed was so comic that I could scarcely help laughing. She had dragged the bed-clothes up till only her eyes could be seen. Her pigtails bobbed about in her emotion.
"Now, Mary dear, listen here. You're a friend of mine. This is Desmond Okewood, another, a very old and dear friend of mine too. Well, you know, Mary, this isn't a healthy country these times for an English officer. That's what Desmond here is. I didn't know he was in Germany. I don't know a thing about him except what he's told me and that's that he's in danger and wants me to help him. I met him outside and brought him right in here, as I know you would want me to, wouldn't you, dear?"
The lady poked her nose over the top of the bed-clothes.
"Present the gentleman properly, Monica!" she said severely.