"I'll knock out the rest of the window with that rock! We'll run; we'll be out of here in a moment."
"Run where?"
"Away. Into hiding—out of all this. The United States patrol-ship is coming from Porto Rico. It will take us from here."
"Where?"
"Away. To Great New York, maybe. Away from all this; from that old fossil, Perona."
I was stooping beside her.
"I'm all right now, Philip."
I rose up, and suddenly found myself clasping her in my arms; her slight body in the boy's ragged garb pressed against me.
"Jetta, dear, do you trust me? Will you come?"
"Yes. Oh, yes—anywhere, Philip, with you."