"Very well. I'll be waiting for you."
She lingered a moment more watching him in his brooding revery where he stood leaning against the doorway. And after a while he raised his haunted eyes to hers.
"I can't keep on," he breathed.
"Yes you can!"
"No.... The world is slipping away--under foot. It's going on without me--in spite of me."
"It's you that are slipping, if anything is. Be fair to the world at least--even if you mean to betray it--and me."
"I don't want to betray anybody--anything." He had begun to tremble when he stood leaning against his door. "I--don't know--what to do."
"Stand by the world. Stand by me. And, through me, stand by your own self."
The young fellow's forehead was wet with the vague horror of something. He made an effort to speak, to straighten up; gave her a dreadful look of appeal which turned into a snarl.
He whispered between writhing lips: "Can't you let me alone? Can't I end it if I can't stand it--without your blocking me every time--every time I stir a finger--"
"McKay! Wait! Don't touch me!--don't do that!"
But he had her in a sudden grip now--was looking right and left for a place to hurl her out of the way.
"I've stood enough, by God!" he muttered between his teeth. "Now I'm through--"
"Please listen. You're out of your mind," she said breathlessly, not struggling to free herself, but striving to twist both her arms around one of his.
"You hurt me," she whimpered. "Don't be brutal to me!"
"I've got to get you out of my way." He tried to fling her across the corridor into her own cabin, but she had fastened herself to him.
"Don't!" she panted. "Don't do anything to yourself--"
"Let go of me! Unclasp your arms!"
But she clung the more desperately and wound her limbs around his, almost tripping him.
"I WON'T give you up!" she gasped.
"What do you care?" he retorted hoarsely, striving to tear himself loose. "I want to get some rest--somewhere!"
"You're hurting! You're breaking my arm! Kay! Kay! what are you doing to me?" she wailed.
Something--perhaps the sound of his own name falling from her lips for the first time--checked his mounting frenzy. She could feel every muscle in his body become rigidly inert.
"Kay!" she whispered, fastening herself to him convulsively. For a full minute she sustained his half-insane stare, then it altered, and her own eyes slowly closed, though her head remained upright on the rigid marble of her neck.
The crisis had been reached: the tide of frenzy was turning, had turned, was already ebbing. She felt it, was conscious that he also had become aware of it. Then his grasp slackened, grew lax, loosened, and almost spent. She ventured to unwind her limbs from his, to relax her stiffened fingers, unclasp her arms.