"Oh, Vincent, promise me, promise me, you won't do anything to Ted! It's all true about our engagement, but it was more my fault than his."
"I can't believe that, Audrey. I'm very far from blaming him. I've no doubt you treated him as you did me."
He sat down exhausted. Audrey, seeing the change of position, not the sudden collapse that prompted it, was in despair.
"Won't you leave me alone now, Vincent? Haven't you said enough?"
"Not yet. Let me think a bit."
He leaned back and closed his eyes. He had so much to say, and now he had no words to say it with.
Audrey looked at the clock; it was half-past four. Would he begin again? She almost wished he would; it would be better than this silence—better than that frowning forehead, with the terrible accusing thoughts behind it. Would no one come? Would he never go?
Hardy had found words and was beginning to rouse himself, when in answer to her prayer the door was thrown open. Her deliverance had come in the shape of Langley Wyndham.
Hardy's eyes followed her. A moment before she had sat white and trembling, shrunk up into herself before the storm of his accusation; now, for that instant, her face became beautiful as he had never seen it before. There was something dramatic in her movement as she rose and went forward to meet Wyndham. There was no mistaking her manner and the tremor of her voice as she spoke to him. Hardy knew his rival before he saw him.
"My cousin Mr. Hardy; Mr. Langley Wyndham."