"If it means anything at all," substituted her father testily.
"Meantime, how do you like the Gran Hotel Kast, Miss Brewster?"
asked Sherwen.
"It's awful beyond words! I've done nothing but wish for a brigade
of Biddies, with good stout mops, and a government permit to clean
up. I'd give it a bath!"
"Yes, it's pretty bad. I'm glad you don't like it."
"Glad? Is every one ag'in' poor me?"
"Because--well, the American Legation is a very lonely place. Now,
the presence of an American lady--"
"Are you offering a proposal of marriage, Mr. Sherwen?" twinkled
the girl. "If so--Dad, please leave the room."
"Knock twenty years off my battle-scarred life and you wouldn't be
safe a minute," he retorted. "But, no. This is a measure of
safety. Sir Willet thinks that your party ought to be ready to
move into the American Legation on instant notice, if you can't
get away to sea to-morrow."
"What's the use, if the legation has no official existence?" asked
Mr. Brewster.
"In a sense it has. It would probably be respected by a mob. And,
at the worst, it adjoins the British Legation, which would be
quite safe.
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