“It is not an ideal!” she cried passionately. “But a living presence still—always a living presence, as it was when he left me!”
“Then why didn't he stay? If he had, we would both have been spared!”
She looked at him resentfully.
“You have no right to speak of him!”
“Yes, I have; for I would have done more—sacrificed more—”
“Be silent!” she commanded, and he saw the white anger in her face; he rose and went to her side.
“Forgive me, Virginia—God knows how I love you.”
“Do you think I shall forgive you because of that!” she asked. “Yes, perhaps because of that! Circumstances have kept us together from the first; they are still keeping us together—it will always be so.”
When Benson reached home, he found a stranger seated in his office, who rose as he entered the room.
“Is this Mr. Benson?” he asked.