"Just how would it make trouble for my father?" Lorraine asked at last.
"I can't believe you'd ask me to help cover up a crime, but it seems
hard to believe that a nightmare would cause any great commotion. And
why is my father unpopular?"
"Well, you don't know this country," Lone parried inexpertly. "It's all
right in some ways, and in some ways it could be a lot improved. Folks
haven't got much to talk about. They go around gabbling their heads off
about every little thing, and adding onto it until you can't recognize
your own remarks after they've been peddled for a week. You've maybe
seen places like that."
"Oh, yes." Lorraine's eyes lighted with a smile. "Take a movie studio,
for instance."
"Yes. Well, you being a stranger, you would get all the worst of it. I
just thought I'd tell you; I'd hate to see you misunderstood by folks
around here. I--I feel kinda responsible for you; I'm the one that found
you."
Lorraine's eyes twinkled. "Well, I'm glad to know one person in the
country who doesn't gabble his head off. You haven't answered any of my
questions, and you've made me feel as if you'd found a dangerous, wild
woman that morning.
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