"Well, Toni?" Her long silence made him uneasy, and he paled, fearing he had angered her by his persistence.
"Well?" She gazed at him absently for a moment, then woke suddenly to life. "Leonard, are you seriously asking me to go away with you? You mean you would take me away, and let my husband divorce me—for you?"
"Yes, Toni." He spoke firmly; and, if for a moment all his lifelong visions of a respectable London practice, prosperity, the respect of those around him, seemed to rise up reproachfully before his eyes, he meant his words absolutely.
"Would you really do it? You must be very fond of me," said Toni simply; and the young man was emboldened to proceed.
"Of course I would do it, and of course I am fond of you." His voice shook a little. "Toni do you really mean that you will think about it—will give me the tiniest fraction of hope to keep me alive?"
"Yes. I will think about it." She spoke slowly. "But—I can't tell you—now. You must go away and let me think things out."
"Don't think too long," he besought her, fearing that prudence might come with reflection. "When will you tell me, Toni? To-morrow? Will you write to me? One word—yes—will do; and I'll make arrangements at once."
For a moment his earnestness startled her.
"You could do it—like that—at once? Leave your practice and everything else at a moment's notice?"
"I'd leave all I have in the world at a second's notice," said Mr. Dowson resolutely; and Toni could not but believe in his sincerity.