“It was very sad indeed,” she said. “If he had lived, he would have shared with you, I suppose, in the concession?”
Trent nodded.
“Yes, we were equal partners. We had an arrangement by which, if one died, the survivor took the lot. I didn't want it though, I'd rather he had pulled through. I would indeed,” he repeated with nervous force.
“I am quite sure of that,” she answered. “And now tell me something about your career in the City after you came to England. Do you know, I have scarcely ever been in what you financiers call the City. In a way it must be interesting.”
“You wouldn't find it so,” he said. “It is not a place for such as you. It is a life of lies and gambling and deceit. There are times when I have hated it. I hate it now!”
She was unaffectedly surprised. What a speech for a millionaire of yesterday!
“I thought,” she said, “that for those who took part in it, it possessed a fascination stronger than anything else in the world.”
He shook his head.
“It is an ugly fascination,” he said. “You are in the swim, and you must hold your own. You gamble with other men, and when you win you chuckle. All the time you're whittling your conscience away—if ever you had any. You're never quite dishonest, and you're never quite honest. You come out on top, and afterwards you hate yourself. It's a dirty little life!”
“Well,” she remarked after a moment's pause, “you have surprised me very much. At any rate you are rich enough now to have no more to do with it.”