"Emile! Emile! I must give it up. I can't go on!"
"And you can't turn back, mon enfant."
"I'll run away."
"Do you think they wouldn't find you? You know enough about our organisation now. No one who has once joined us is ever allowed to escape. You would be found sooner or later, and then—you remember what I told you once? That I am responsible for you to the Brotherhood?"
He spoke calmly, patiently, as if he were explaining things to a child.
If his associates could have seen the cynical Emile Poleski of ordinary life they would have found reason to marvel!
The gesture of uncontrollable horror told him that she understood only too well. What should the upholders of the Cause care for ties, for friendships, for pity?
If she were recaptured Emile would be her executioner. He might refuse, but that would not save her and he would be shot as well. Why should he suffer because she had lost her courage and turned traitress?
She tried to collect her senses, and to think properly. Everything felt blurred and far off. One thing alone seemed certain—that there was no way out of the impasse.
Emile had walked to the glass-door and unlocked it. Then he came back to her.