"I am really here," I said. "Would you like to touch my hand?"
She didn't move at all; her fingers still clutched the fur coat.
"What has happened?"
"It's a long story, but you may take it from me that all is over. The tie between us is broken. I don't know that it was ever very close. It was an external thing. The true misfortune is that I have ever seen you."
This last phrase was provoked by an exclamation of sympathy on her part. She raised herself on her elbow and looked at me intently. "All over," she murmured.
"Yes, we had to wreck the little vessel. It was awful. I feel like a murderer. But she had to be killed."
"Why?"
"Because I loved her too much. Don't you know that love and death go very close together?"
"I could feel almost happy that it is all over, if you hadn't had to lose your love. Oh, amigo George, it was a safe love for you."
"Yes," I said. "It was a faithful little vessel. She would have saved us all from any plain danger. But this was a betrayal. It was--never mind. All that's past. The question is what will the next one be."
"Why should it be that?"
"I don't know. Life seems but a series of betrayals. There are so many kinds of them. This was a betrayed plan, but one can betray confidence, and hope and--desire, and the most sacred . . ."
"But what are you doing here?" she interrupted.
"Oh, yes! The eternal why. Till a few hours ago I didn't know what I was here for. And what are you
