"You talk--well, as you might be supposed to talk!" she
exclaimed, breaking off with an effort. "What have official
channels done to end this war? I am not here to help either side.
I represent simply humanity. If you destroy or hand over to the
Government that packet, you will do your country an evil turn."
He shook his head.
"I am relieved to hear all that you say," he told her, "and I am
heartily glad to think that you do not look upon yourself as
Overman's associate. On the other hand, you must know that any
movement towards peace, except through the authorised channels, is
treason to the country."
"If only you were not the Honourable Julian Orden, the son of an
English peer!" she groaned. "If only you had not been to Eton and
to Oxford! If only you were a man, a man of the people, who could
understand!"
"Neither my birth nor my education," he assured her, "have
affected my present outlook upon life."
"Pooh!" she scoffed. "You talk like a stiffened sheet of
foolscap! I am to leave here to-morrow, then, without my packet?"
"You must certainly leave--when you do leave--without that," he
assented. "There is one thing, however, which I very sincerely
hope that you will leave behind you."
"And that?"
"Your forgiveness."
"My forgiveness for what?" she asked, after a moment's pause.
"For my rashness this morning."
Her eyes grew a little larger.
"Because you kissed me?" she observed, without flinching. "I have
nothing to forgive.
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