Her head rested against the side
of the carriage as though her brain were reeling. But at length she
spoke.
"You--you would not deceive me," she faltered. "Yet tell me more."
"I can't;" answered Jack, with a shake of his head. "Further than
that, I cannot go."
"Oh, I see," she nodded, "and I do not blame you. You feel that,
whatever you told me, I would tell him. But I wouldn't!"
Though the girl's face was still fearfully pallid, her eyes, as she
turned to gaze into the submarine boy's face, flashed with a new fire.
Then, after a brief pause:
"Whatever he is, or has done, I am an American," she added, quietly.
"This has been a miserable fifteen minutes for me." responded Jack
Benson. "I have been torn between the impulse to mind my own business,
and the fear that you may be throwing yourself away on a man whom you
would promptly learn to despise."
"I shall never give Donald Graves another thought as a lover," the girl
rejoined, promptly. "Nor shall I shelter him. I am going to him now!"
"Then you have an appointment with him? You know where to find him?"
"Yes," replied the girl, looking at the submarine boy rather queerly.
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