"Do you think I would hesitate to give up Greenriver—and all the rest—to make my husband happy?"
And looking at her Eva knew she would not. Mistaken, Toni might often be—foolish, self-willed, a little intolerant of advice; but she would never be selfish. If she could be convinced that her departure would be beneficial to the man she loved, she would certainly leave him, though it broke her heart to go.
"No, of course not." Eva spoke a trifle vaguely. "But you couldn't go, Toni. It would be impossible. Why, your husband would think you were mad."
"Would he? Perhaps I am." Toni's smile was a little melancholy. "Sometimes I think this is all a dream—that I'm not Owen's wife at all—that Greenriver and the gardens and everything else are merely imagination. I can't believe it's true. If it is, how is it that everything has gone so terribly, horribly wrong?"
She paused, gazing before her with puzzled eyes.
"I thought once that if I married Owen I should be the happiest girl in the world. But I'm not. I'm the most miserable. I—sometimes I wish—oh, I don't know what I wish!"
"Come, Toni"—Eva rose as though to change the subject—"you mustn't be so despondent. Let me ring the bell—it's nearly five, and I'm sure you want a cup of tea."
"Not yet, Eva." In Toni's voice was a new note, a note of decision, which Eva's ear was quick to detect. "When you say I should go away with another man, who had you in your mind?"
A moment Eva waited. Then:
"I meant the man who has the misfortune to adore you, Toni, the man who gave up everything, his practice, his prospects, London, everything, for your sake. You know the man I mean. You know as well as I do that Leonard Dowson adores the very ground you walk on."