“We must see to him. Will you come out? Never mind the rain.”
“The rain! Ah, dear God, that I should feel the blessed rain beating on my face once more in liberty!”
She gave him her hand, and they stood for a moment, peering deep into each other’s eyes.
“Arthur,” she said, so quietly now that the storm seemed to have passed from her spirit, “you have work to do. I shall not keep you. Tell me where to wait, and there you shall find me. But, before you go, promise me one thing. If we fall again into the hands of the Germans, shoot me before I become their prisoner.”
“No need to talk of that,” he soothed her. “We have a splendid escort. In two hours——”
She caught him by both shoulders.
“You must promise,” she cried vehemently.
He was startled by the vibrant passion in her voice. He began then to understand the real horrors of Irene’s vigil, whether in the rat-infested darkness of the barn or the cushioned luxury of the limousine.
“Yes,” he muttered savagely, “I promise.”