“There’s no one like you, Frank,” she observed at this point, “for me, anyway.
I like Lord Stane, of course, but I’ve not really seen enough of him.
It’s nonsense to even think of it.
Just the same, he is interesting—fascinating, really.
And if you’re going to leave me to a sort of half-life with you, it does seem impractical for me to ignore him, assuming that he would really marry me.
At the same time, relying on you is not even to be considered.
I can stay with you, of course, and do my best to work out with you all the things we planned.
But if so, it will be because •I am relying entirely on myself.
I will be making you a present of my youth, my ideals, my enthusiasm, and my love, and expecting not one thing in return.”
“Bevy!” he exclaimed, startled by the equity of her statement.
“That isn’t true!”
“Well, then, show me where it’s false.
Let’s say I go on, as I probably shall; then what?”
“Well,” said Cowperwood, seating himself in a chair opposite the bed, “I will admit you raise a serious question.
I’m not as young as you, and if you continue with me, you certainly run a great risk of exposure and social ostracism.
There’s no denying that.
About all I can leave you is money, and regardless of what we decide on tonight, I can tell you now that I propose to arrange for that at once.
You will have enough, if you manage it intelligently, to maintain you in luxury for the rest of your life.”
“Oh, I know,” said Berenice.
“No one can deny that where you care for anyone, you are the soul of generosity.
I am not even questioning that.
What troubles me is the lack of real love on your part, and the reasonable certainty that I’m to be not only left without love but I am to pay for my own love in other ways later on.”
“I see your problem, Bevy, believe me, I do.
And I’m in no position to ask you to do more for me than you feel you want to do.
You must do what you think is best for yourself.
But I promise you, darling, that if you do continue with me, I will try to be faithful to you.
And if ever you feel you ought to leave me and marry someone, I promise not to interfere.
And that’s final.
As I said before, I care for you very much, Bevy.
You know that.
You are not only my sweetheart but the same as my own child to me.”
“Frank!” She called him over to her side.
“You know I cannot leave you.
It’s not possible, at least not in spirit.”
“Bevy, darling girl!”
And he gathered her up in his arms.
“How wonderful it is to have you with me again!”
“But one thing we must settle, Frank,” she put in at this point, calmly smoothing her ruffled hair, “and that’s this yachting invitation.
What about that?”
“I don’t know yet, dear, but I guess as long as he’s so very much interested in you, he’s not likely to be particularly antagonistic toward me.”
“Scamp!” cried Berenice, laughing.
“If ever there was a deep-dyed villain . . .”
“No, just a young, ambitious American businessman trying to find his way through an English financial jungle!
We’ll talk it over tomorrow.
It’s you, just you, I want to think about now . . .”
Chapter 50
Like a master chess player, Cowperwood proposed to outwit all of the entirely nationalistic and, of course, humanly selfish elements arrayed against him in his underground project.
He had evolved a broad and comprehensive plan, which he hoped to work out as follows:
First, there was the existing Charing Cross line, to which must be added the existing central loop consisting of the District and the Metropolitan Railway, with their utterly impractical and warring factions.
If all went well, he, Stane, and Johnson, but principally himself, held the key to this situation.