"A reporter?"
"He came down to write up the wreck. It's a bad one. Nine dead, so far."
"Is he still here?"
"No. Gone back to Angelica City."
Retrieving her cracker, the guest finished her meal, heartily but
thoughtfully. She insisted on lending a hand to the washing-up process,
and complimented Banneker on his neatness.
"You haven't told me your name yet," he reminded her when the last
shining tin was hung up.
"No; I haven't. What will you do with it when you get it?"
"Report it to the company for their lists."
"Suppose I don't want it reported to the company?'
"Why on earth shouldn't you?"
"I may have my reasons. Would it be put in the papers?"
"Very likely."
"I don't _want_ it in the papers," said the girl with decision.
"Don't you want it known that you're all right? Your people--"
"I'll wire my people. Or you can wire them for me. Can't you?"
"Of course. But the company has a right to know what has happened to its
passengers."
"Not to me! What has the company done for me but wreck me and give me an
awful bang on the head and lose my baggage and--Oh, I nearly forgot. I
took my traveling-bag when I ran. It's in the hut. I wonder if you would
get it for me?"
"Of course. I'll go now."
"That's good of you.
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