“Gone away? . . . Aye, as far as London! And in five hours I could be with her—see her again——”
He broke off. At the bare thought his heart was pounding against his ribs, his breath labouring in his throat.
“Won’t you try, Dan?” Even to herself June’s voice sounded faint and far away.
“It would be useless.” He got up and strode aimlessly back and forth, coming at last to a standstill in front of her. “A man knows his own limits, June. And I’ve reached mine. England can’t hold the two of us.”
June gave a little stifled cry.
“What do you mean? You’re not—you’re not going to leave me? To go abroad—now?”
There would be need for him in England soon—in a few months. But of course he couldn’t know that. Should she tell him. Tell him why he must not leave her now? Keep him with her by a sure and certain chain—the knowledge that she was soon to be the mother of his child?
She debated the question wildly in her mind, tempted to tell him, yet feeling that even if then he stayed with her it would not be because he loved her or had ceased to care for Miss Vallincourt, but only because he was impelled by a sense of duty. And her pride rebelled against holding him by that.
His voice broke in upon her conflicting thoughts.
“Yes. I’m going abroad. It’s the only thing, June. I can’t stay in England—and keep away from her.”