“I came to tell you of—things, while I still have the chance. To-morrow? Who knows what to-morrow may bring forth?”
A keen, hard light suddenly flashed into the woman’s eyes.
“What of—to-morrow?” she demanded sharply, while she studied the man’s pale features, with their boyish good looks.
For answer Charlie reached out and caught one of her hands in both of his. She strove to release it, but he clung to it despairingly.
“No, no, Kate. Don’t take it away,” he cried passionately. “It is for the last—the very last time. Tell me, dear, is—is there no hope for me? None? Kate, I love you so. I do—dear. I will give up everything for you, dear, everything. I can do it. I will do it. I swear it, if—only you’ll love me. Tell me. Is there——?”
Kate shook her head, and the man dropped her hand with a gesture of utter hopelessness.
“My love is given, Charlie. Believe me, I have not given it. It—it is simply gone from me.”
Kate sighed. Then her mood changed again. That sharp alert look came into her eyes once more.
“Tell me—of to-morrow,” she urged him.
The second demand had a pronounced effect upon Charlie. The air of the suppliant fell from him, even the signs of his recent debauch seemed to give way before a startling alertness of mentality. In his curious way he seemed suddenly to have become the man of action, full of a keenness of perception and shrewdness which might well have carried an added conviction to Stanley Fyles, had he witnessed the display.