notwithstanding all her sufferings, she had loved so dearly. She looked
down at the pearls which hung from her neck. She saw herself in her
spotless muslin gown. She felt the touch of laces and silk, all the
nameless effect of this environment of luxury thrilled in her blood. It
was better, she decided, that she did not think of the future at all. It
was better that she should nurse the gratitude which she most
assuredly felt.

The dinner-party that night consisted of men only, and although the
conversation was fairly general, even Virginia had a suspicion that
these men had not been brought together absolutely as ordinary guests
for social purposes. Lightly though they all talked, there was something
in the background. More than once the voices were lowered, allusions
were made which she failed to understand, and half-doubting glances were
thrown in her direction. One of these her uncle appeared to notice, and,
leaning a little forward in his chair, he said a few words to the man
at his side in such a way that they were obviously intended for the
information of all.

"My niece," he said, "is going to take the part which I had once hoped
my daughter might fill. If the occasion arises, you can speak of any
matter of business in which we may be interested, before her. It is
necessary," he continued, after a slight pause, "that there should be
some one in my household who is above suspicion, I might almost say,
above temptation. My niece will hold that post."

Then they all looked at her, and Virginia was a little frightened. It
did not seem to her necessary, however, to say anything. Two of the men
she met for the first time, but all were known to her by sight. There
was Stephen Weiss, the head of a great trust, long, lean, with