"You are ill? You are afraid of death?"
"Afraid of death? No, I am seeking it."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I do not wish to live any more— I'm tired."
He looked about him at the charming, flower-scented room, at the vibrant figure of the girl.
"You mean you intend to end it—deliberately?"
"Yes. Why not? There is not a living soul dependent on me to be affected by my going."
"You don't think it's cowardice?"
"I'm brave enough to be a coward. I've fought my way through and over every obstacle—even you say I've been successful. Now I'm tired— I've got nothing to fight for, I'm Irish, and I'm lonesome."
"But you're just at the top, ready to enjoy what you've fought for."