Maxine laughed; then, swift as a breeze or a racing cloud, her mood changed.
"Monsieur, you care for Max?"
"What a question! I love Max. He's a star in my darkness—or was, until the sun shone."
He paused, fearful of where his impulses had led him; but Maxine was all sweetness, all seriousness.
"Am I, then, the sun, monsieur?"
In any other woman the words must have seemed a lure; but here was a fairness, a frankness and dignity that lifted the question to another and higher plane. Blake, comprehending, answered simply with the truth.
"Yes, you are the sun; and all my life I have been a sun-worshipper."
She made no comment; she accepted the words, waiting for the flow of speech that she knew was close at hand—the speech, probably irrelevant, certainly delightful, that he invariably poured forth at such a moment.
"Princess, do you know my country?"
She shook her head, smiling a little.