“No, thank God. Not mine. I love Germany--the Germany of my mother--and the men like Lindberg. But the Germany of von Stromberg--that’s not Germany to me.” “Do you think we will get away?” “Yes,” he said quickly. She read the anxiety in his voice and knew that he was thinking of her, and in that moment a new idea of her duty came to her. “You mean,” she said quickly, “that you could get away if it wasn’t for me. O Cyril, I know. Don’t try to deceive me. You could disguise yourself and get away to the Swiss border. It would not be difficult for you. I am a weight around your neck which may destroy you.” “Hush, child.” “No. I am not too stupid to see that. You ought to be going now.” She clung to his arms and looked up into his face as her duty came more clearly to her, while her voice trembled with earnestness. “I want you to go, Cyril. Your life is valuable to England. They are on a false scent down there. You could get away in the darkness and by morning you can be miles away. I’m not afraid. Tomorrow I can go and give myself up. I am only a girl--an American. They will not dare to harm me. Don’t smile. I am in deadly earnest. You must go, Cyril--now--now----” But he only patted her gently. “You think that I am a child,” she went on, “that I cannot be trusted to get along alone. Haven’t I proved it to you that I am not afraid? Look at me, Cyril. I am only a little tired now but tomorrow I will go to von Stromberg and say, ‘Here I am--now what can you do to me?’ He may threaten and bluster and rage, but that will not frighten me--when you are safe. What can he reply? What _could_ he do? My nation is not at war with his. He would not _dare_! O Cyril, say that you’ll go--say that you’ll go----” She looked up into his face and saw that its expression had not changed. He was still smiling at her softly while she felt the touch of his fingers gently petting her. “Oh--you won’t go--you won’t!” she cried, and then without further warning burst into a passion of tears. “Don’t, Doris, for God’s sake,” he whispered. “Don’t break now. I need all your courage and your strength. You’ve been so brave--so strong. Keep up your spirits, there’s a dear. We’ll pull through, don’t you worry.” “They’ll take you--if you stay here.” “No. They won’t find us. I’m not afraid of that, and there are water and biscuits here. We’ll take things easy for a while and then slip off. Do you think I could go and leave you in the lurch? Pretty sort of a Johnny I’d be to do a thing like that! Not for twenty Englands, Doris,” he whispered, kissing her tenderly. “Not for twenty Englands, I wouldn’t.” His touch soothed her and she grew more quiet. “Of--of course you w-wouldn’t,” she murmured. “But I w-wish you would.” Her hands met around his neck and he raised her chin and kissed her on the mouth. It was a kiss of plighted troth, of tenderness, faith and the exalted passion that comes with tears. “Mated?” he whispered. “Yes--yes,” she murmured faintly.