"What is it? What are you thinking of now, Marco?" she urged anxiously, scared by his expression.
"I was thinking how you could get to England in the shortest time," he answered. "It's very vital that you should get there as soon as possible."
"Yes, yes. By that first through train to Paris to-morrow morning."
"No. You needn't go to Paris," said Amaldi. "It will be more direct for you to go from Venice straight to Boulogne via Laon. You'll save several hours by taking that route."
"Oh—thank God!" she stammered. Then she caught up his hand to her heart. "How good you are to me! Don't think I don't realise it—your unselfishness.... You think only of me—and I can't think of anything but my boy ... of how frightened and wretched he must be.... It's not that my love for you is any less than my love for him ... but he's so little ... he's my only son ... he needs me so...."
Amaldi felt like crying out, "And do I not need you?" but he choked down this cry. What meaning had the love of lovers for Rachel mourning her children? He drew her to him and kissed her loosened hair very gently.
"This is Bobby's hour," he said. "I can wait for my hour."
He left not long after, so that the servants might have no cause to gossip. It had been decided between them that he would attend to everything for her and that she and Rosa would be ready to leave by the morning train.
"I will send men to fetch your boxes at nine," he said. "Your maid can go with them. I will take you to the station myself."
"Thank you ... thank you, dearest...." she said.