As Noah Wicker sat down amid a thunder of applause, and the jury, after a brief charge from the bench made ready to retire, a slender, black-gowned figure pushed her way impetuously through the crowd. She circled the rear seats and rushed headlong to where the defendant sat.
“Are you a member of Mr. Morley's family?” asked the deputy sheriff.
“No,” said Miss Lady, brushing him aside, “but I'm going to be.”
CHAPTER XXXI
That evening Mr. Gooch went home with the Ivys whom, as he was now adrift, he purposed adopting. For a long time they sat over the fire discussing the exciting events of the day.
“I could scarcely believe my eyes,” murmured Mrs. Ivy, “when at the verdict,' Not Guilty,' I saw her fling her arms about his neck!”
“Why surprised?” snapped the attorney. “Aren't women born fatuous?”
“But the whole thing is so indelicate, so heartless! A young widow who ought to be mourning beside her husband's grave, and a wild young man who has just escaped the penitentiary. Hasn't suffering taught them anything?”