“It’s the only way I can make my peace with Violet,” he said. “Can’t you understand what she is to me? She would promise nothing until I had made all straight with you—and I can’t let her go.”
Appleby’s face was compassionate, but he shook his head. “It is out of the question, Tony. I can’t—even for you,” he said. “I have got to stay here, and see this trouble through.”
“Mr. Appleby is right,” said Harding. “He has work to do.”
Tony seemed to groan, and sat still a pace. Then he looked up with a little flush in his face.
“Well,” he said very quietly, “in that case I’ll stay with you.”
Appleby laughed. “The thing is palpably absurd. A Palliser of Northrop consorting with the Sin Verguenza!”
“Still,” said Tony doggedly, “I’m not going back to leave you in peril here. I couldn’t face Violet, and tell her that tale. Nor am I as sure as you seem to be that the thing is so absurd. It’s only the moral courage that has been left out of me.”
“Try to realize what it is you wish to do,” said Appleby almost sternly.
Tony smiled curiously. “It is quite plain to me already. I’m going to stay here and see the affair through with you; then when the insurgents will let you go you’ll come with me, if it’s only for a week or two, and tell Violet that you have forgiven me. In the meanwhile Craythorne and my agent will take better care of Northrop than ever I could do. There is another point you don’t seem to have remembered. I should almost certainly be made a prisoner by the Spaniards if you sent me away.”
“There is a good deal of sense in that,” said Harding.