“Thank you.” There was a droop to his eyelids and his glance sought the floor at his feet. “That being the case,” he began slowly, “you will agree with me, I think, when you have time to consider the point, that in future it will be more agreeable to you not to see your aunt or the Nortons. Feeling as you tell me you do, the acquaintance cannot be entirely pleasant.”
“It is more than an acquaintance,” said Stephen. He felt rebellious of the condition Benson was seeking to impose.
“You must hear many pleasant things of me,” said the lawyer, with cynical humour. “It must be pleasant for you to sit and listen to them denounce me—eh? Or are they more tactful in your presence?”
But Stephen was silent. There was no answer he could make to this, but he felt his cheeks redden.
“Humph!” said Benson. “You don't answer me,” he added in the same breath; “but you don't need to. I suppose you see that scoundrel Wade?”
“No, I haven't seen him in days.”
“Don't you think you would enjoy travel?” asked Benson. Stephen stared at him blankly. “Why not go abroad?”
“No, I can't go abroad—I don't wish to, and—no, I don't wish to—”
“I merely suggested it as an easy way of breaking with these people. You might be gone a year, two years, I might even arrange my affairs, and join you later.”
“You don't understand, Uncle Jake, I have no desire to break with my aunt; as for the Nortons—” Benson's glance became hostile, menacing, and Stephen felt a quick sense of resentment. This was a man he had never known before, a side of Benson's character with which he had never come in contact.