Again Appleby, struggling with tense emotion, found words failed him, and sat silent until Tony laid his hand on his.
“It might have been better if I had never fallen in love with Violet,” he said.
“Why?” said Appleby, who fancied that Tony was watching him curiously. “She was in love with you.”
“I think not,” and Tony feebly shook his head. “It isn’t necessary to discuss that again.”
He stopped with a little shiver, and Appleby’s fingers closed tightly on his hand.
“If I could only bring you back to her you would find out how mistaken you are.”
“That is evidently out of the question. Nobody could, and I think if a little longer life had been granted me I would have tried to give her up. I know now that she would never have been happy with me. Still, you will tell her, Bernard—what has happened to me.”
Appleby only pressed his hand, and it was a minute or two later when Tony spoke again.
“There is one man who would please Violet—and I don’t think I would mind,” he said.
Again Appleby felt the blood in his forehead. “She never thought of me, and I have nothing to offer her,” he said.