“What were the mistakes?” cried Virginia. “Was there ever a better, braver boy—did he ever fail in affection? That he was unfortunate, that he too early in life took to himself burdens he should not have assumed is true enough, but his faults were the faults of a generous youth!”
“They were disastrous enough,” retorted Benson coldly. “And I wish to spare his son similar error, similar hardship. I don't expect you to decide to-day—”
“I have already decided,” answered Virginia. “I would not trust him to you.”
“When have I been unkind, Virginia?” he asked.
“I no longer feel that I know you,” she replied.
“There is one answer for that, one explanation; you Know what it is, Virginia,” he said still coldly.
“You blame me after all these years.”
“They have been lonely ones,” he said.
“Because I could not give you what was not mine to give.”
He ran his fingers through his thin grey hair, and smiled almost whimsically.