Ryder's look deepened its sharp, defensive concentration.
"This is true—I mean your father is not just putting something over—telling you to get your consent?"
Her thoughts flew back to her father's haggard face. "Oh, it is true! I know."
"And he's going to hand you over—What sort is this Hamdi?"
"A general. Old. Evil enough to lay traps to obtain me."
"It's abomination." The anger in the young man surged beyond his control. "You must not do it.... If your father is clever enough to break a law let him be clever enough to mend it—by himself. Such a sacrifice is not required.... You must realize what this means to you. You must realize—Look here, I'll help you. I'll plan some escape. There must be ways. I have friends—"
She stifled the leap of her heart. She held her head high and made what she thought was a very noble little speech. "It is for my father, monsieur. You do not understand. It is to save my father."
He looked at her in silence. He was afraid to answer for a moment; he could feel the unruly blood beating even in the lips he pressed together.
"But don't you understand—" he blurted at last and broke off.
After all, he did not know this girl. If he swayed her judgment now, and dragged her away, what life, what compensation could he offer her? How did he know that she would not regret it? Would she be happier in a world unknown?....