This call was quite incomprehensible to her. She acknowledged, however, that to gratify a reasonable curiosity on this point she must sacrifice the opportunity to show her just indignation at the part she still believed he had played in sending her husband West. She led the way down the hall and into the library, where she silently motioned him to a chair. He seated himself and carefully placed his hat and gloves on the floor at his feet. While he was thus engaged her calm eyes were fixed upon him, their look grave and inquiring; and he experienced somewhat the same feeling he had known some five years before when he faced his first judge and jury; there were the same dry lips and parched throat, the same wonder in his heart if anything would come of it when he opened his lips to speak. He knew that his task would not be lightened by any word of hers. “It's rather a difficult matter that brings me here,” he began haltingly. “I should not have ventured on this errand had it not been that the need was very urgent. You will remember that when your husband went West he took with him a young man by the name of Walsh?” It was an unlucky start, for Virginia's face hardened perceptibly. He was immediately conscious of this, even while he did not divine the reason for it. He bit his lip, angry with himself that he had not first made his appeal to her pity. Then his pride came to the rescue; this was not the first hostile judge he had confronted. “Walsh was only recently married when he joined the company; he was a stranger here, but, I believe, a man of excellent antecedents; however, the really serious part of it is, that his wife is quite alone and entirely friendless.” “I have no patience with him for leaving her,” said Virginia. “It is hard to condone,” admitted the lawyer. “It seems to me, Mr. Benson, that since he was too careless to think of his wife's happiness himself, some friend should have reminded him of his duty.” “I am aware his judgment in the matter may readily be called into question, Mrs. Landray, but I suppose he expects to make his fortune.” He was bent on agreeing with her. He felt her anger but was unable to determine a motive for it. “And so make amends for all his selfishness? As if he ever could,” cried Virginia in a tone of keen exasperation. Benson picked up his hat and smoothed the crown nervously. Her manner was inexplicable. “I wonder you did not advise him as to his duty,” added Virginia. “I, Mrs. Landray? Why, I never spoke ten words to the man in my life until the day before the company left; then he came to my office and placed one or two small matters of business in my hands.” “Oh,” said Virginia haughtily. “Your advice was reserved for your friends and clients.” “Really, Mrs. Landray,” answered Benson quietly, “I am very unfortunate in that I seem to have offended you, but I assure you I am quite in the dark as to what my misdeeds are.”