Amaryllis shaped her device to its end.
"And if you do not accept this shelter," she concluded, "what else is there for you ?" Hesper, many times her refuge, rose before the hard-pressed girl.
"There is another in Jerusalem who will help me," she declared.
"And that one ?" Amaryllis asked coolly.
"Is he who calls himself Hesper, the Ephesian," Laodice answered.
"Why should you trust him ?" the Greek asked pointedly.
"He--when Philadelphus--you remember that Philadelphus told you what happened--" "That he tossed a coin with a wayfarer in the hills for you ?" the Greek asked.
Laodice dropped her head painfully.
"This Hesper let me go then, and afterward--" "He has repented of that by this time.

It is not safe to try him a second time.

Besides, if you must risk yourself to the protection of men, why turn from him whom you call your husband for this stranger ?" The question was deft and telling.

Laodice started with the suddenness of the accusation embodied in it.

And while she stood, wrestling with the intolerable alternative, the Greek smiled at her and went her way.
Laodice stood where Amaryllis had left her, at times motionless with helplessness, at others struck with panic.