“I understood you to say you were going on to Benson?” said he, resuming the conversation where he had previously abandoned it.
“Yes, it is my home.”
“Perhaps you are acquainted with my brother, Mr. Stillman, the Baptist clergyman?”
“Oh, very well, and you are Dr. Stillman?”
As he spoke, the lawyer glanced curiously at his companion, for Dr. Stillman was famous.
“May I ask your name?” said the doctor.
“Benson; you probably knew my father.”
The doctor gave him a wintry smile. He felt that his purposes separated him from the busy bustling world; its trafficking laity he had found, rarely paused that it might understand his motives, and he had long since ceased to look for sympathy from men occupied with their own concerns. It was the emotional sex which seemed to understand him best.
“You have been engaged in missionary work in India?” said Benson.
“In Burmah, yes; I have only recently returned to America, and have spent the summer lecturing. Now I am going to my brother's for a short stay.”