“This is good of you,” Hugh Benton sighed pleasurably.
“On the contrary,” she smiled, arranging her chair opposite him just where one of the lamps would shine softly upon her, “it is good of you to come here and keep me company.”
“Mrs. DeLacy,” he began earnestly, “I want to apologize to you again for Mrs. Benton’s conduct yesterday afternoon. I thought perhaps I could succeed in persuading her to write you a note or——”
“Please, Mr. Benton, don’t refer to it again—I assure you I——”
“Surely, it must have hurt you deeply.”
“Yes,” she answered, her lips quivering. “I was dreadfully hurt. You know how absolutely innocent I was and how undeserved the unkind things she said to me. I wouldn’t intentionally harm anyone for the world.”
“You have no need to tell me that,” he assured her. “Your gentle forbearance has been magnificent—please believe me when I say—I am deeply grateful.”
“Don’t you think that forgiveness is best?” she asked him, ruminatively. “To me there are always extenuating circumstances. I have been thinking it over and perhaps Mrs. Benton——”
“There was no excuse in the world for Mrs. Benton’s conduct,” the man exclaimed decisively. He shook his head sadly. “This is not the first time I have feared my wife is losing her mind.”
“I forbid you to mention this affair again,” she scolded gently. “We will consider it a closed chapter.”