Somewhere in there is the desperate impulse to indeed provide that clarification, but she clamps down on it just long enough to forget it entirely in favor of methods of effective clandestine secrecy.

"Quite so, Mr. Dickerson. In which case, I suppose your room of residence will have to suffice."

She has no real interest in delaying this conversation for the time it will take to reach a sufficiently private room across the harbor, and they certainly cannot use her quarters. Imagine.