He leaned his brow on his hand, shielding his whole face from the light, while he drew patterns on the blotting paper with a dry pen. The governor broke off with an appearance of spontaneity.
"But I mustn't run on like this about my own affairs," he said. "I came, as perhaps you guessed, about this unfortunate affair of poor Miss Thorne. I don't know if you know her personally——"
He paused. He really could not remember. He believed Lydia had mentioned having seen the man somewhere.
"I've met her once or twice," said O'Bannon.
"Well, if you've seen her you know that she's a rare and beautiful creature; but if you don't know her you don't know how sensitive she is; sheltered and proud; doesn't show her deep, human feelings."
A slight movement of the district attorney's hand brought his mouth and chin into the area of illumination. Their expression was not agreeable.
"No," he said, "I must own I did not get all that."
"This whole thing is almost killing her," Albee went on. "Really I believe that if she has to go into court—well, of course she must go into court, poor child, and hear it all gone over and over before a jury. Imagine how anyone—you or I would feel if we had killed a man, and then add a young woman's natural sensitiveness and pity. You can guess what she is going through. I've sat with her for hours. It's pitiful—simply pitiful. Anything you can do, O'Bannon, that will make it easier for her I shall take as a personal favor to me, a favor I shall never forget, believe me."
The governor smiled his human, all-embracing smile, almost like a priest. There was a moment's silence. Albee's experience was that there usually was a moment while the idea sank in.
Then the younger man asked with great deliberation, "Just what is your interest in this case, Governor Albee?"