Peter shook his head. "It's me they're after. I can look out for myself, Anthony; this business isn't quite a novelty in my line. You must get out—and get quick!"
"And leave you behind? Not Anthony! I stick!"
Anthony was flashing a length of highly polished gunmetal in his fist.
Romola with a trembling hand was applying a taper to the other candles. Peter, observing that the twins were, to all appearances, sound asleep, approached her.
She paused in her work, holding the taper above her head, so that its gaunt rays flickered on his face. "Because you loved me so?"
Her shoulders drooped, and her head rolled backward slightly, as though she were very tired. She nipped her lower lip between pearl-white teeth.
"Because I love you so?" she repeated dully.
"In some respects," he said bitterly, "you are like a certain snake in India. You can't lock those damned snakes up! They can always find a tiny hole, a slit in the cage, and—out they slip!"
"Ah, Peter——" Romola dropped the taper to the bronze altar, where it flickered a moment and went out. She fondled his reluctant hand between cold fingers. Her face became utterly miserable, and there were sparkling tears in her eyes. "My heart is your heart. I have given my love to you. I would give my life for you!"
He drew away from her slowly, turning his head to avoid the anguish in her eyes.