He was still pleading with his heart in his voice. "A month ago I would just have left without saying anything to you. I don't even know that I am fit for anything else but acting. I could not ask you to give it up without having something else to offer you. I suffer so to see you on the stage. To see your name, your person, your doings all public property drives me wild! I cannot stand seeing you show your lovely self to the applause of those vulgar fools!"
"You are mad!" she whispered.
"I know—but I have had a stroke of luck——!"
"Luck?"
"I have come into some money. Oh, nothing much, but enough to give me a start in some new country—if you could come with me! Oh, I am a fool to think it. But I had to tell you I loved you. You would be quite justified in laughing, and showing me the door. But I love you! It seemed cowardly to go away without telling you."
"You are asking me to give up my profession?" she murmured unsteadily.
"I ask nothing. I expect nothing. But if you could—! You'd have to give it up. It would kill me otherwise. I could stand better having none of you than half." He laughed harshly. "Am I not ridiculous? Tell me to go."
"I am not so enamoured of make-believe either," she murmured.
She was weakening! I trembled for her. This wretched business had to be cleared up before they could hope for any happiness.
"If I loved you I could give it up," she whispered, "but I am not sure."