"No, no, I know," said Number 5 apologetically. "I just thought I'd mention it."
"Don't mention anything that has no bearing on the case," said the judge, and went back to his writing.
At noon, when the court adjourned, the jury was not yet satisfactory to the prosecution.
Lydia, Miss Bennett and Wiley drove over to Eleanor's for luncheon. Of the three women Lydia was the gayest.
"He really does—that man really does expect to put me behind bars," she said.
"The prospect apparently puts you in the highest spirits," said Eleanor.
Lydia laughed, showing her bright, regular little teeth.
"I do like a good fight," she answered.
That was the way she thought of it—as a personal struggle between the district attorney and herself. Since that first interview Wiley had no indifference to complain of. On the contrary, he complimented her on her grasp of the case—she ought to have been a lawyer. She had put every fact at his disposal—every fact that had any bearing on the case. She did not consider the exact nature of her former acquaintance with O'Bannon among these; that is to say, she mentioned that she had once met him at the Piers' and played bridge with him. She added that Eleanor felt he had taken a dislike to her. Wiley said nothing, but imagined that she might have played queen to a country attorney—irritating, of course.
About everything else, however, she went into details—especially about the bribing of Drummond, over which she apparently felt no shame at all. Both Albee and Wiley, who were often together in consultation with her, were horrified—not so much at her having done it as at her feeling no remorse. Wiley spoke as her lawyer. Albee, more human, more amused, shook his head.