So the time had passed. It was now three months since Virginia had left her husband, and in all that time she had made no attempt to communicate with him. She had no desire to do so. If, sometimes, she had a secret yearning, if she sometimes hoped that he would miss her and come and fetch her back, she stifled it instantly. The very fact that he had made no attempt to come after her, showed plainly enough that he had never really cared for her. She thanked God that they had had no children. At least she was spared the torture of having brought unhappiness on innocent heads. At times she saw his name mentioned in the newspapers, and she smiled bitterly when she read accounts of sensational supper parties, scandalous proceedings which had attracted the attention of the public in which he had figured prominently. That was the kind of life he liked, the only kind he knew. How could she ever have dreamed that he was a man who would make her a good husband?
"Mr. Brown! Mr. Robinson! Mr. Brown! Mr. Robinson!"
The monotonous, shrill voices of the pages as they wearily made their rounds calling out the names of invisible guests, the orders of clerks and doormen, the chattering and laughing of the people as they passed and re-passed up and down the corridors made a perfect babel of conflicting sound. The afternoon was now well advanced. The crowds had begun to dispense. There was more breathing space in the passages. For the time being the rush was over and Virginia sat back in her chair, glad of a moment's respite after the busy day. She saw nothing and heard nothing of the commotion all around her. The noise and the crowds in the hotel lobby did not exist for her. Her thoughts, in spite of herself, were far away, with the man who before God's altar had solemnly promised to shield and protect her, and then permitted her to go out alone in the cold, unsympathetic world to earn her own living as best she could, without even making an effort to find how or where she was. With all his faults, she had always thought Robert kind-hearted. Why, then, should he have treated her in this cruel, heartless, indifferent manner? A man's voice suddenly aroused her from her words. In a cold, business-like tone it said:
"Are you busy? I have some letters to dictate."
Instantly aroused to a sense of her duties, Virginia sat up with a start. Without looking up, accustomed to be at the beck and call of the first stranger who came along, she said wearily:
"No, I'm not busy. I'll take the dictation."
The newcomer sat down at her desk. Virginia slipped a piece of paper into her machine and was ready to begin. Suddenly the man uttered an exclamation. She looked up and nearly fell from her chair.
"Mr. Hadley!" she exclaimed.
It was her husband's most intimate friend. Chance had brought him to the hotel and having some business letters to write, he had stopped at the desk of the first stenographer who appeared to be unoccupied. When he saw who the young operator was he could scarcely believe his eyes. With a gesture of the greatest concern, he exclaimed:
"Mrs. Stafford! You here?"