'My good Popper, my mother's in Cincinnati. I'm going with Mr White.'
'With Mr White?' He raised his eyebrows. 'You are very frank about it.'
'Why—what do you mean?'
He put on his glasses and looked at her carefully.
'Does it not seem to you a rather—curious thing for a young girl of your age to go away with a young man of the age of Mr Ferdinand White?'
'Good gracious me! One would think I was doing something that had never been done before!'
'Oh, many a young man has gone travelling with a young woman, but they generally start by a night train, and arrive at the station in different cabs.'
'But surely, Popper, you don't mean to insinuate—Mr White and I are going to Holland as friends.'
'Friends!'
He looked at her more curiously than ever.