“He has told you that he is going?” asked Benson, who wished to be quite sure on this point.
“Yes,” impatiently.
The lawyer shrugged his shoulders. “Very well, then, I suppose I can speak plainly.”
She felt a sudden sense of jealous displeasure; by what right did he assume this attitude of intimacy with her husband; and how dared he even suggest that he might, by any chance, know more of Stephen's intentions than she did herself; but her resentment was only momentary. “You are to tell me if he is committed,” she said.
“I think he is,” said Benson slowly.
She set her lips firmly. “Then I suppose it is useless for me to object.”
“You are very much opposed to his going?” said Benson. She opened her eyes wide in wonder at the question.
“Would any woman wish the man—” she broke off abruptly, and glanced about her. “He will be leaving all this, and me; and for what?” She made a little gesture with her shapely hand and arm.
“It is rather incomprehensible, Mrs. Landray,” said the lawyer.
“But why should he wish to go? What can he gain by going? I wonder if I am to blame.” She regarded Benson with anxious, searching eyes.