The next day, however, brought him further misery, for his perceptions were clearer now, and the difficulties he must meet more apparent, while he had also a horrible suspense to struggle with when the man he had sent with the note brought him an answer. It was very brief: “I will try to see you this evening.”
Somehow the day dragged through, and Tony was glad when at last he left Northrop as darkness came, for the uncertainty was growing insupportable. It was, however, Mrs. Wayne who greeted him when he reached her house, and she looked at him gravely without shaking hands.
“Yes,” she said, answering his unspoken question, “Violet has told me, and it is she who must decide. She will come down in a minute or two.”
Tony was weak, but he had now the courage of hopelessness, and he met the lady’s eyes.
“I will not try to influence her, madam, and can only thank you for allowing me to speak to her,” he said.
Mrs. Wayne made no answer, but opened the door of a lighted room, and Tony, who sat down, waited for what seemed an interminable time until Violet came in. There was a curious hardness in her eyes, and her face was pale, so pale that it had an ivory gleam in the soft light, which the bronzy clusters of warm-tinted hair emphasized, but she was dressed with more than her accustomed taste, and held herself very straight. Tony rose when he saw her.
“I was almost afraid you would not see me,” he said.
The girl sank into the chair he drew out, and he stood in front of her, with the hand he rested on the table trembling a little.
“I am not sure that it was wise,” she said. “In a case like this one can only say nothing—or too much.”
“I could bear the latter more easily,” said Tony. “You know what I have done. We must have an understanding now.”