"It's like a dream. Yet here--by some miracle--it
is, in our hands. And the treaty is gone."
"The treaty is gone," I repeated, miserably.
It was Maxine herself who had spoken the words which I merely echoed,
yet it almost killed her to hear them from me. No doubt it gave the
dreadful fact a kind of inevitability. She flung herself down on the
sofa with a groan, her face buried in her hands.
"My God, what a punishment!" she stammered. "I've ruined the man I
risked everything to save. I will go to the theatre, and I will act
to-night, my friend, but unless you can give me back what is lost, when
to-morrow morning comes, I shall be out of the world."
"Don't say that," I implored, sick with pity for her and shame at my
failure. "All hope isn't over yet; it can't be. I'll think this out.
There must be a solution. There must be a way of laying hold of what
_seems_ to be gone. If by giving my life I could get it, I assure you I
wouldn't hesitate for an instant, now: so you see, there's nothing I
won't do to help you. Only, I wish the path could be made a little
plainer for me--unless for some reason it's necessary for you to keep me
in the dark.
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