I mean as my father
does and my uncle does and most of my friends. Tell me what you
think of it--you and your friends."
"That's a large order, Miss Frome. I hardly know where to begin."
"Wait! Here comes Lieutenant Beauchamp to take me away. I promised
to play ring toss with him, but I don't want to go now." She led a
swift retreat to a spot on the upper deck shielded from the wind
and warmed by the two huge smokestacks. Dropping breathless into a
chair, she invited him with a gesture to take another. Little imps
of mischief flashed out at him from her eyes. In the adventure of
the escape she had made him partner. A rush of warm blood danced
through his veins.
"Now, sir, we're safe. Begin the propaganda. Isn't that the word
you use? Tell me all about everything. You're the first real live
socialist I ever caught, and I mean to make the most of you."
"But I'm unfortunately not exactly a socialist."
"An anarchist will do just as well."
"Nor an anarchist. Sorry."
"Oh, well, you're something that's dreadful. You haven't the
proper bump of respect for father and for Uncle Joe. Now why
haven't you?"
And before he knew it this young woman had drawn from him glimpses
of what life meant to him.
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