"Speaking to her will do no good now.

Give her time." Acting on a sudden impulse, I held out the letter to him as he spoke.
Even moments might be of importance, if Eustace had indeed left me.

To give me time might be to lose the opportunity of recalling him.
"You are his old friend," I said.

"Open his letter, Major, and read it for me." Major Fitz-David opened the letter and read it through to himself.

When he had done he threw it on the table with a gesture which was almost a gesture of contempt.
"There is but one excuse for him," he said.