ge Philadelphus. He will not change so long
as you are beautiful. This is life, my dear. You may as well prepare
for it now."

Laodice gazed with wide, terrorized eyes at the Greek. She saw force
gathering against her. 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. On no occasion did
homelessness in the war-ridden city of Jerusalem appear half so
terrible as shelter under the roof of that hateful house.

The little golden-haired girl from the chamber of artists beyond
skipped by her.

"Hast seen Demetrius?" she called back as she passed. "Demetrius, the
athlete, stupid!"

Laodice turned away from her.

"Nay, then," the girl declared; "if I have insulted you let me heal
over the wound with the best jest, yet! John hath written a sonnet on
Philadelphus' wife and our Lady Amaryllis is truing his meter for him.
Ha! Gods! What a place this is for a child to be brought up! I would
not give a denarius for my morals when I am grown. There's Demetrius!
Now for a laugh!"

She was gone.

Where was that ancient rigor of atmosphere in which she had been
reared? thought Laodice. Had it existed only in the shut house of
Costobarus? Was all the world wicked except that which was confined
within the four walls of her father's house? Could she survive long in
this unanimously ba