“My dear Mrs. Landray, there is nothing extraordinary in the situation. I am sorry to say it, but suits of this sort are far from uncommon. You had every confidence in Mr. Benson, and he saw his opportunity. Men play for riches without much thought of anything but the stakes. Not to get found out is the principal thing.”
But Virginia was not giving any attention to Mr. Wade's slipshod views on morality. She was thinking of the Benson she had once known; the Benson who had sacrificed himself to meet her lightest wish, whose kindness had seemed infinite. He could not have wronged her and remained the man she Had known. The change had begun then, and it had gone on, and the manifestation of it had come to her in many ways; in his treatment of Stephen's father, and now in the case of Stephen himself. The thought of the two Stephens always stiffened the spirit of her resentment against this former friend.
“I think the sooner we get it over with, the better,” said Wade. “What do you say to some day next week?”
“Is there any reason why we should wait?” asked Virginia.
“None whatever, but I thought you might prefer to.”
“No, I will see Mr. Benson at once.”
Wade's eyes sparkled.
“Mr. Benson is usually in his office between eleven and twelve. If I call here with a carriage and the money at half-past ten tomorrow, will you be ready?”
“Yes.”
“I declare, Mrs. Landray, you are almost as good as a man! We are sure to find old Gibbs there, and Miss Murphy, the bookkeeper. The thing will be over with in a moment; the anticipation is much the worst part of it.”