"Mon cher," he stammered, "I do not know. How could I know?"
"It's this, then! With all my heart and soul I want to know this sister of yours."
CHAPTER XXIV
IT came sharply, as the crash of a breaking vessel might come to the ear—this ring of reality in Blake's voice! Abruptly, unpleasantly, Max came back to the world and the consequences of his act.
Impressions and instincts spring to the artist mind; in a moment he was armored for self-preservation—so straitly armored that every sentiment, even the vague-stirring jealousy of himself that had been given sudden birth, was overridden and cast into the dark.
With the old hauteur, the old touch of imperiousness, he returned Blake's glance.
"Mon ami," he said, gravely, "what you desire is impossible."
Only a moment had intervened between Blake's declaration and his reply, but it seemed to him that the universe had reeled and steadied again in that brief interval.