y pockets when I make a gesture. Last week, at the bank, the
cashier begged me to take some of my money away and do something with
it. He said it was burdening the institution. So, as your adopted
brother, I'm going to start a bank-account for you," he ended, simply.

"Indeed you are not!"

"Indeed I am!"

"I agreed to live. I did not agree to--what is it you Americans say?--to
sponge!"

He ignored all but one phrase of the reply.

"What do you mean by that?" he demanded with quickened interest. "Aren't
you an American?"

She bit her lip.

"N-o--not wholly."

"What, then?"

She hesitated.

"I can't tell you that just yet," she said at last.

"Oh-h!" Laurie pursed his lips in a noiseless whistle. The girl's voice
was musically English, and though her accent was that of London, up
till now she had spoken as colloquially as any American. Indeed, her
speech was much like his sister's. He was puzzled.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"That I am not wholly American?" She was smiling at him ironically, but
he remained serious.

"Yes. And--oh, a lot of things! Of course you know I am all at sea about
you."

The familiar shadow fell over her face.

"When one is within an hour or two of the next world," she asked
indifferently, "why should one tell anybody anything?"

"How long have you been in America?"

"All my life, off and on."

This at least was reassuring. He imagined he saw a gleam of light. The
girl had declared that she was not a spy, nor involved in war
propaganda; but it was quite possible, he reasoned, that she was
enmeshed in some little web of politics, of vast importance to her and
her group, of very little importance to any one else.

"I suppose," he suggested cheerfully, "that net you've said so much
about is a political net?"

They had been speaking throughout in low tones, inaudible at any other
table. Their nearest fellow diners were two middle-aged women at least
thirty feet away. But she started violently under his words. She made a
quick gesture of caution, and, turning half-around, swept the room with
a frightened glance. Laurie, his cigarette forgotten in his fingers,
watched her curiously, taking in her evident tension, her slowly
returning poise, and at last the little breath of relief with which she
turned back to him.

"I wish I could tell you all you want to know," she said, "but--I can't.
That's all there is to it. So please let us change the subject."

His as