More than that, as she had said the words, it was easy to read into her remarks the fact that she knew there had been another woman in Wilford's life. It had wounded her deeply, in spite of the fact—as Kennedy had demonstrated by the Freud theory—that she really had not cared as greatly for Wilford as even she herself had thought.
Even to me it was plain in this day-dream recollection that the man throughout it was really Vail. She knew it was Vail and she knew that woman with him was Vina. But in her wish that it should not be so, she had unconsciously changed the face on the "figure" she saw. It was her endeavor to preserve what she desired. She had unconsciously striven not to have it her husband, as it was not herself she saw in the vision with him.
"Go on," urged Kennedy, gently. "Is there anything else that comes into your mind?"
"Yes" she murmured, dreamily. "I am thinking about some of Vail's clients."
"About any of them in particular?" hastened Kennedy, eager to catch the fleeting thought before she might either lose or conceal it. "About any one contemplating a suit for divorce?"
"Y-yes," she replied before she realized it, her eyes opening as she came out of the half-relaxed state again, recalled by the sound of Kennedy's voice.
"What were you thinking about that person?"
"That he was devoting entirely too much time to that sort of practice," she answered, quickly, avoiding a direct reply. "I can remember when I first knew him that he was in a fair way to be a very successful corporation lawyer. But the money and the cases seemed to come to him—the divorce cases, I mean."
Kennedy ignored the last, explanatory part of the remark, as though he penetrated that it disguised something. He did not wish to put her on guard.
"Devoting too much time to the practice?" he queried, "or do you mean you think he was devoting too much time and attention to the particular client?"