The other man put out his hand, and he touched Antony's closed hands.
"I have lost my wife as well; she died two years ago."
Cedersholm heard Antony's exclamation and felt him start violently.
"Your wife," he cried, "Mary ... dead ... dead?"
"Yes. Why do you exclaim like that?"
"Not Mary Faversham?"
"Mary Faversham-Cedersholm. Did you know her?"
With a supreme effort Antony controlled himself. His voice suffocated him.
Dead! He felt again the touch of her lips; he heard again her voice; he felt her arms around him as she held him in Windsor—"Tony, darling, go! It is too late."
Oh! the Open Door!