He faced the question just as he had faced death years before leering at him,a few feet from the muzzle of his revolver.
"He was an Englishman.The only name we had ever heard him called by was 'Monty.'Some said he was a broken-down gentleman.Ibelieve he was."She was unconscious of his passionate,breathless scrutiny,unconscious utterly of the great wave of relief which swept into his face as he realised that his words were without any special meaning to her.
"It was very sad indeed,"she said."If he had lived,he would have shared with you,I suppose,in the concession?"Trent nodded.
"Yes,we were equal partners.We had an arrangement by which,if one died,the survivor took the lot.I didn't want it though,I'd rather he had pulled through.I would indeed,"he repeated with nervous force.
"I am quite sure of that,"she answered."And now tell me something about your career in the City after you came to England.Do you know,I have scarcely ever been in what you financiers call the City.
In a way it must be interesting."
"You wouldn't find it so,"he said."It is not a place for such as you.It is a life of lies and gambling and deceit.There are times when I have hated it.I hate it now!"She was unaffectedly surprised.What a speech for a millionaire of yesterday!
"I thought,"she said,"that for those who took part in it,it possessed a fascination stronger than anything else in the world."He shook his head.
"It is an ugly fascination,"he said."You are in the swim,and you must hold your own.You gamble with other men,and when you win you chuckle.All the time you're whittling your conscience away -if ever you had any.You're never quite dishonest,and you're never quite honest.You come out on top,and afterwards you hate yourself.It's a dirty little life!""Well,"she remarked after a moment's pause,"you have surprised me very much.At any rate you are rich enough now to have no more to do with it."He kicked a fir cone savagely away.
"If I could,"he said,"I would shut up my office to-morrow,sell out,and live upon a farm.But I've got to keep what I've made.
The more you succeed the more involved you become.It's a sort of slavery.""Have you no friends?"she asked.
"I have never,"he answered,"had a friend in my life.""You have guests at any rate!""I sent 'em away last night!""What,the young lady in blue?"she asked demurely.
"Yes,and the other one too.Packed them clean off,and they're not coming back either!""I am very pleased to hear it,"she remarked.
"There's a man and his wife and daughter here I can't get rid of quite so easily,"he went on gloomily,"but they've got to go!""They would be less objectionable to the people round here who might like to come and see you,"she remarked,"than two unattached young ladies.""May be,"he answered."Yet I'd give a lot to be rid of them.
He had risen to his feet and was standing with his back to the cedar-tree,looking away with fixed eyes to where the sunlight fell upon a distant hillside gorgeous with patches and streaks of yellow gorse and purple heather.Presently she noticed his abstraction and looked also through the gap in the trees.
"You have a beautiful view here,"she said."You are fond of the country,are you not?""Very,"he answered.
"It is not every one,"she remarked,"who is able to appreciate it,especially when their lives have been spent as yours must have been."He looked at her curiously."I wonder,"he said,"if you have any idea how my life has been spent.""You have given me,"she said,"a very fair idea about some part of it at any rate."He drew a long breath and looked down at her.
