Tony stared at her, and once more the girl felt a little shiver of apprehension when she saw his face, but in a moment he recovered himself.
“I want to know exactly what you mean by that?” he said.
“Isn’t it evident from what you have told me of your early days?”
Tony’s apprehension disappeared, for it seemed he had been mistaken. “Of course!” he said. “Still, the difficulty was that I couldn’t urge anything. I can’t see why you believe in Bernard, Violet. Isn’t it plain that—it must have been either he or I?”
Tony was not devoid of a certain cunning, and the boldness of the question had its effect, but the girl’s eyes gleamed as she said, “I could almost as soon believe you guilty as Bernard Appleby.”
“Then,” said Tony with a quietness which served him very well, “I am sorry you have so little confidence in me!”
Violet stood still a moment, a trifle pale in face, and very erect. Then she made a little gesture, and her lips trembled.
“Tony,” she said simply, “you will forgive me that, though I scarcely deserve it. If I could have meant it would I have done—what I did a little while ago?”
Tony caught her hands, and would have drawn her to him, but the girl shook off his grasp and slipped away, while the man stood still until the door closed behind her, and then shook his head.
“Angry yet!” he said. “If one could only understand her—but it’s quite beyond me, and I’ve no inclination for further worries of any kind just now.”