“Oh, nonsense. Am I not safe in this basement at least?”
“Yes, I think you are, but if the police should get wind of your presence in town, why, they would not leave a stone unturned. They have been itching for a chance to tone down their reputation for stupidity ever since your disappearance.”
She smiled and frowned at once.
“Besides,” he went on, leaning back against the clothes and gazing at the ceiling, “if that debate is your chief mission here I am willing to capitulate in advance. You know I cannot debate with you, Clara. I am still in your power. My brain is in a whirl in your presence. It is at this moment. If that debate took place I should simply not know what I was talking about. You would not wish me to make an exhibition of the abject helplessness that comes over me when I see you, would you?”
His words, uttered in monotonous accents, contrasted so sharply with the air of mockery that had attended his former attempts at an avowal; they sounded so forlornly simple, his spirit was so piteously broken that he seemed a changed man. She was touched.
“Don’t speak like that,” she said kindly. “I’ll do as you say. I’ll leave Miroslav at once.”
“Is there absolutely no hope for me, Clara?”
“I am no longer free, Elkin. I am a married woman,” she said, flushing violently. “Let us change the subject. Tell me something about your Americans.”
He dropped his eyes, and after a rather long pause he said, blankly: