"That is sufficient," he concluded, smilingly.
"No, it is not sufficient," she said. "I wish to say a little more. Let me go to Trois Fontaines alone. I am accustomed to travel. There is no need to involve you. As long as I arrive there what difference does it make whether or not you accompany me?"
"You promised that I should arrive safely at Trois Fontaines. It doesn't matter whether you accompany me. Please--please don't. I had rather you did not go."
He said, gravely: "I know how you must feel about travelling as my wife----"
"I don't wish you to take the risk of travelling with me."
"What risk? The worst that could happen to you would be your arrest and detention. If you are not a spy, you can not be proven one."
Her blue eyes gazed absently out across the sunny landscape through which they were speeding.
"You are not a spy," he replied; "what risk do you run--or I?"
She said, still gazing into the sunlit distance: "What is done to spies--if they are caught?"
"I have--" she swallowed, caught her breath, breathed deeply; then--"I have heard so.... It is possible that I might be suspected and detained.... I had rather you did not attempt to go with me.... Because--I do not wish you to get into any difficulty--on my--account."
"Nothing serious could happen to either you or me through anything that you have done."
"I am," he said. And added in a lower voice: "It is very generous of you--very kind."
Her own voice was lower still: "Please don't go with me, Mr. Guild. Let me go to the wharf alone. Let me take my chances alone. If there is any difficulty they will arrest you, too. And if I--were convicted----"
"You could not be. That is utterly impossible. Don't think of such things, Miss Girard."
"I _must_ think of them. Will you tell me something?" She turned and looked at him curiously, almost wistfully.
"I want to ask you something. You--you said to me that if you thought me a spy, you would not help me to escape from England. You said so, didn't you?"
"Why? You are not English. You are an American. America is neutral. Why are you an enemy to Germany?"
"And if I were a spy, trying to escape from England--trying to escape--death--you would refuse to help me?"
She had turned entirely toward him on the seat beside him; her child-like hands clasped on the robe over her knees, her child-like face, pale, sweet, wistful, turned to his.