"Always business!" Zita sighed under her
breath; and then asked aloud:
"Shall you be gone long?"
"No; only a fortnight or three weeks, p-p-probably."
"I suppose it's some of THAT business?" she
asked abruptly.
"'That' business?"
"The business you're always trying to get your
neck broken over--the everlasting politics."
"It has something to do with p-p-politics."
Zita threw away her cigarette.
"You are fooling me," she said. "You are
going into some danger or other."
"I'm going s-s-straight into the inf-fernal regions,"
he answered languidly. "D-do you happen to have any friends
there you want to send that ivy to? You n-needn't pull it
all down, though."
She had fiercely torn off a handful of the climber
from the pillar, and now flung it down with vehement anger.
"You are going into danger," she repeated;
"and you won't even say so honestly! Do you
think I am fit for nothing but to be fooled and
joked with? You will get yourself hanged one of
these days, and never so much as say good-bye.
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