Lifting her eyes to his, a bright smile filling all her face, she went on:
"I am not without money. I have nearly twenty-five pounds with me. The question is, where would one—who would rather die than wear the 'Mark of the Beast'—be safest? In England, do you think?"
"I don't know, Rose. My place is there, because my duty lies there. And now that I have, I think, finished all that I can do here, I ought to be getting back, at once. I ought, I think, to go to-night. At ten-thirty there is a good service to the West, but I cannot leave you alone here. I fear that death, in some way, must have overtaken the people of this house, so that I cannot remain here, but must leave the house to its fate. But about you, Rose? I cannot leave you, like the house, to your fate!"
With the absolute trust of a little child, she stretched her hands towards him, saying:
"Good George, my saviour already from one dreadful death, save me again please. Take care of me until we get to England, take me with you, I will be no expense to you, I will give no trouble, I will—"
Her clinging, child-like trust moved him greatly. He took the two pretty, plump little hands in his, and holding them in a clasp, firm and tight, as though by his grip upon her he would give her an assurance of safety, he said:
"Take you with me, little one, of course I will. And now that is settled we will talk over our plans, for I think we ought to leave by that ten-thirty Western-bound service. Each hour after to-night, the service will become more crowded, and we had better avoid the crowd, if we can."
George Bullen had never had much to do with women. No woman had ever quickened by one extra beat his heart or pulse. Yet now he felt himself strangely, mysteriously drawn to this sweet young Lebanon girl. He realized that it was no time for love-making, yet he would have been of marble not to have been moved by her trust in him, and by her sweet, gracious personality.
At ten-thirty that night they were clear of the place, and homeward-bound to England.