“Sit down, kid,” he said gently. “I guess there’s nothing wrong with your memory. Been fooling them all the time, eh?”

The girl looked at him, nodded, and then suddenly burst into tears. Julius patted her on the shoulder.

“There, there⁠—just you sit tight. We’re not going to let you quit.”

Through her sobs the girl said indistinctly:

“You’re from home. I can tell by your voice. It makes me homesick.”

“Sure I’m from home. I’m your cousin⁠—Julius Hersheimmer. I came over to Europe on purpose to find you⁠—and a pretty dance you’ve led me.”

The car slackened speed. George spoke over his shoulder:

“Crossroads here, sir. I’m not sure of the way.”