I want to be alone
with you."
"You probably will, my dear girl. But you must remember that a secret
service man has to cover up his traces in every way. He has to hide
everything, even from his wife."
"Louis," she said in real distress, clutching his arm, "are you really
in the secret service? I'll--I'll forget it all, if you're telling me
lies. I'll never think of it again. But it so awful to think you are
lying to me!"
"Why should I lie, my darling?" he said, looking hurt, but staring at
her mouth instead of looking into her eyes.
"You--you told me--never--to believe you, Louis. Oh, you do make it hard
for me. I don't know what to believe. If you're in the secret service
don't they pay you any money?"
"Of course--they pay me enough to keep myself going. But it's a
patriotic work, you know. And as for not believing me, I told you not to
believe me about drinking. That was all."
"But Louis, if you have money, why are you so worried about it now?
And--didn't you tell me your father sent you out here?"
"Yes, he did, dearie," he said earnestly. "It's quite true. I was a
rotter and he got fed up with me. But I've done a lot of secret service
work and didn't dare even tell him. I'm under an oath of secrecy. The
times I've had to let him think I was out all night, simply too squiffy
to get home when in reality I was working--for England--"
"And you really, truly mean it, Louis? Louis, it would break my heart
right in two if I thought you were lying now.
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