"Do you imagine I can live in this town—climb these steps—stand on that balcony, that breathes of her?"
Max was leaning back against the window-frame. His brain seemed empty of blood, his heart seemed to pulse in a strange, unfamiliar fashion, while somewhere within his consciousness a tiny voice commanded him urgently to preserve his strength—not to betray himself.
"You will go away?" he heard himself say. "Where will you go? To Ireland?"
"To Ireland—or hell!" Blake walked to the door.
"Then you are leaving me?"
"You shall know where I am."
"And if I should need you?"
Blake made no answer; he did not even look back.
"If—if she should need you?"
He turned.