” “Who says I don’t? Didn’t you used to live in Arkansas?” “Alabama. ‘Or flew in by balloon, perhaps. Well-balanced, sane, wasn’t I? You never heard anyone call me a madman? I’m pretty near being one now, and it’s her fault. She drifted northward from the Strand, and came on some queer and dingy quarters. ‘It—it is—nothing,’ she uttered jerkily. It would have given me intense satisfaction to have been able to catch a French spy. Do you mean to tell me you didn’t understand why I wanted you to come here?” “Not a bit of it,” said Ann Veronica stoutly. CHAPTER VIII. I met a Hindu a few weeks ago who was a Harvard man.
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