"I—don't—know," she replied. "Darling Charles, can't ye see how much I want to be strong? But can't ye understand how little it will avail us if, after I promise, I fail?"
He sighed, automatically patted his pockets for a cigarette.
The spider! It was still there. Justin pulled it out, looked at it. When Corinne Forrester had questioned him about its uses other than as a waterproofer, he had not given her an answer.
Deborah touched the odd little sprayer with a forefinger, said, "I found this in ye'r nightdress when I put it away. What is it, Charles?"
He hesitated, made up his mind, said, "It's an invention from my own time, honey. It shelters against cold—and against heat. Providence must be with us."
"Against heat? How does it work, Charles?"
"Here—I'll show you." He pressed a tiny button, spraying some of the transparent plastic across the palm of his left hand.
"'Tis as magical as Master Ortine's devices," cried the girl.
"Perhaps," replied Justin. "Now stand very still, honey—I'm going to give you a coat of this stuff. Then you'll have nothing to fear from Ortine's flame illusions."
"Ye'r a very wonderful man, Charles," she told him proudly.