She made a slight effort at last to free herself, and instantly he set her free. She sat down again at the table, striving desperately for self-control. But she could not even begin to speak to him, so choked and blinded was she by her tears. A while longer he waited beside her; then at length he spoke. "If you really honestly feel that you can't marry me, that to do so would make for misery and not happiness; if in short your love for me is dead--I will let you go." The words fell curt and stern, but if she had seen his face at the moment she would have realized something of what the utterance of them cost. But her own face was hidden, her paroxysm of weeping yet shook her uncontrollably. "Is it dead?" he said, and stooped over her, holding the back of her chair but not touching her. She made a convulsive movement, whether of flinching from his close proximity or protest at his words it was impossible to say. He waited a moment or two. Then: "If it isn't," he said, "just put your hand in mine!" He laid his own upon the table before her, upturned, ready to clasp hers. His face was bent so low over her that his lips were almost on her hair. She could have yielded herself to his arms without effort. But she only stiffened at his action, and became intensely still. In the seconds that followed she did not so much as breathe. She was as one turned to stone. For the space of a full minute he waited; and through it the wild beating of her heart rose up in the stillness, throbbing audibly. But still she sat before him mutely, making no sign. Then, after what seemed to her an eternity of waiting, very quietly he straightened himself and took his hand away. She shrank away involuntarily with a nervous contraction of her whole body. For that moment she was unspeakably afraid. But he gave her no cause for fear. He bore himself with absolute self-possession. "Very well," he said. "That ends it. You are free." With the words he turned deliberately from her, walked to the door, passed quietly out. And she was left alone. CHAPTER XVII THE EASIEST COURSE "I won't be a party to it," said Nick. "You can't help yourself." Bluntly Max made reply. He lounged against the window while his host dressed. The presence of the stately _khitmutgar_ who was assisting Nick was ignored by them both. "I can generally manage to help myself," observed Nick. Max's mouth took its most cynical downward curve. "You see, old chap, this chances to be one of the occasions on which you can't. It's my funeral, not yours." Nick sent a brief glance across. "You're a fool, Max," he said.