Virginia watched him more than once from her seat, in half-unwilling admiration.  She was ashamed to admit that her personal enthusiasm for him had in any way abated, and yet she was becoming conscious of that absolute lack of any real cordiality, of any evidence of affection in his demeanour towards her and every one else with whom he was brought into contact.  She knew very well what the world’s account of him was, for in the old days they had read sketches of his career up in the little farmhouse amongst the mountains.  They had read of his indomitable will, of his absolute heartlessness, the stern, persistent individuality which climbs and climbs, heedless of those who must fall by the way.  Perhaps he was really like this.  Perhaps her first impressions had been wrong.  Then, with a sudden wave of shame, she remembered the joyous, affectionate letters which every post brought her from the home, which 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 inscrutable face, and eyes hidden behind thick spectacles; Higgins, who virtually controlled a great railway system; Littleson and Bardsley, millionaires both, and politicians.  It was a gathering of men of almost limitless power; men who, according to some of the papers, lived with their hands upon their country’s throat.  Littleson leaned over and spoke to her not unkindly.