"Yes, a great deal."
The soft-footed butler stood at his elbow, like an actor in comedy
suddenly cast for the role of a portentous messenger.
"Miss Niles is calling you again, sir," he said.
"On, yes!--ah--Adrian, I am very sorry, my dear fellow. I will
finish the conversation when I come back."
This time the telephone was within earshot; in the hall outside.
Adrian heard his uncle's slow steps end in the creaking of a chair
as he sat down; then the picking up of the receiver. The message was
a long one, for his uncle did not speak for fully a minute; finally
his voice drifted in through the curtained doorway.
"You think ... only a few minutes?"
"... Ah, yes! Conscious? Yes. Well, will you tell her, Miss Niles?--yes,
please listen very carefully--tell her this. That I am not there
because I dared not come. Yes; on her account. She will understand.
My heart--it's my heart. She will understand. I did not dare. For her
sake, not mine. Tell her that. She will understand. Please be very
careful in repeating the message, Miss Niles. Tell her I dared not
come because of my heart.... Yes; thank you. That's it.... What? Yes,
I will wait, Miss Niles."
Adrian, sitting in the library, suddenly got to his feet and crossed
to the empty fireplace and stood with his back to it, enlightenment
and a puzzled frown struggling for possession of his face.
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