The tide was receding; was going out and away—to the Great Beyond. He knew that if he chose he could go with it. It would be so easy an act, if he stepped off the rocks further down—into the water that was always deep.
Then he pulled himself up with a jerk. Pride came to the rescue. Was he to cave in, go under, just because of a woman? What a fool he was! What an unmitigated, arrant fool! Was there a woman in the world—the whole world—worth caring so much for? No. Not one!
But his heart contradicted. He remembered that anxious look on her face, the loving attitude, the feel of her arms as they rested on his breast, his shoulders. His, too, was the remembrance of the warmth of the sweet human breath; her eyes that had looked into his. Then he looked out to sea again; mentally out to the Great Beyond. Asked himself the old, old question: Was life worth living?
Bathos saved the situation. He remembered that a character in one of his stories had asked the same question: Was life worth living? The comic doctor had replied that it depended—depended on the liver!
He walked home.
CHAPTER XIII
FEVERISH SYMPTOMS
Masters did not leave Wivernsea. The obstinacy of his character came into play there; he had come down for a month, and he stopped.