Then what can't you tell him?
Vera.
I can't tell him that he's a dying man—that he has a mortal disease of the brain.
Carlyon.
[After a moment of silence.] There was never any one who could really stand against me! How long do you give him? [He sits down with an air of relief.
Vera.
It may be a long time. I can't say.
Carlyon.
I must have some idea; say what you think. Afterwards we can find some one who knows.