Elinor.
The letter fluttered from the man’s nerveless fingers to the floor. His head drooped forward until it rested on the edge of his great mahogany desk, the sharp edge of the glass pressing into his forehead unheeded. His whole body shook with sobs.
“ ‘That is how I shall find peace!’ ” he quoted. “Oh, Marjorie! Marjorie!” he groaned aloud, “if you could see me now, you could find it in your great heart to forgive me!”
Wearily he lifted his head and his hand searched out a desk button. The clerk who answered was told to send Bryson, the manager. When the man stood deferentially before the financier, Benton asked him hurriedly:
“Bryson, I wonder if you will be able to take complete charge here, while I go to California?”
“To California? Shall you be gone long, Mr. Benton?”
“I can’t tell exactly—probably all summer.”
“It would be quite a responsibility for me,” Bryson answered uneasily. “You know what a peculiar state the market is in, Mr. Benton.”
“But you’ve been with me so many years, Bryson,” Hugh argued. “You know my methods. I have every confidence in your judgment.”
“Thank you, sir, I appreciate your faith in me,” Bryson acknowledged gratefully. “When do you intend starting?”