"A little stiff," she answered, "but that is more from the bruises than ought else, I think, for—"
Her cheeks warmer to a deeper tint, as she said:
"I have a dozen or more bruises!"
"Let us sit down," he laughed, "and we can do two things at once, eat and talk."
Half an hour passed; they ate and drank, and grew almost merry as they exchanged a few notes. When, however, in response to her question:
"But you are English, George?" he replied.
"Yes! Though as I speak Syrian perfectly, and Hebrew fairly, it seems better for me not to appear to be English, hence my Syrian costume. I feel I can trust you, Rose, my new little friend, so I do not mind telling you that I belong to a great English newspaper, and as many of those now in authority are opposed to our paper, I am passing as a Syrian, that I may better get my reports, for our paper, through to England."
She had started when he began to speak of his connection with a great English Newspaper. Now she interrupted him, saying, in a cautious whisper:
"Are you Mr. Ralph Bastin?"
It was his turn to start now, and in amaze, he cried: