If he got her alone he would put a stop to such intolerable abuse, but the chance escaped him until long after dinner, when the moon swung high above the lake, when the men in uniform and their women were paired in the ballroom, or on the terrace and balconies. He asked her to dance at last and she made no difficulty, giving him that unreal and provoking smile. "You dance well," she said when the music stopped. They were near a door. He suggested that they go outside. "While I tell you that if you offer me any more of that gruel I'll publicly accuse you of treason." She looked at him puzzled, hesitating. "What do you mean?" "When it comes to being killed," he answered, "I prefer the Huns to empty kindness. It's rather more useful for the country, too. Please come out." She shook her head. Her eyes were a little uncertain. "Yes, you will," he said. "You've let yourself in for it. I'm the victim of one of your war charities. Let me tell you that sort of thing leads from the dance floor to less public places. After all, the balcony isn't very secluded. If you called for help it would come promiscuously, immediately." She laughed. She tried to edge toward her mother. He stopped her. "Be consistent. Don't refuse a dying man," he sneered. "Dying man!" she echoed. "You've impressed me with it all evening. For the first time in your life you've tried to treat me like a human being, and you've succeeded in making me feel a perfect fool. Where's the pamphlet you've been reciting from? I'll guarantee it says the next move is to go to the balcony and be very nice and a little sentimental to the poor devil." Her head went up. She walked out at his side. He arranged chairs close together at the railing where they seemed to sit suspended in limitless emptiness above the lake and the mountains flattened by the moonlight. Later, under very different circumstances, he was to recall that idea of helpless suspension. She caught it, too, evidently, and gave it a different interpretation. It was as if, engrossed by her own problems, she had for the moment forgotten him. "This place is so high! It gives you a feeling of freedom." He knew very well what was in her mind. "I'm glad you can feel free. I'm glad with all my heart you are free again." Caught by her sensations she didn't answer at once. He studied her during that brief period when she was, in a fashion, helpless before his eager eyes. Abruptly she faced him, as if the sense of his words had been delayed in reaching her, or, as if, perhaps, his frank regard had drawn her around, a little startled. "I shall not quarrel with you to-night," she said. "Good! Then you must let me tell you that while I'm sorry as I can be for poor old Blodgett, I'm inexpressibly glad for you and for this particular object of your charity." "It does not concern you," she said. "Enormously. I wonder if you would answer one or two questions quite truthfully."