Mrs. Quinton Twelves.
Certainly; and yet you have both sat at home, quaking; behaving, for all the world, as if you have a lurking suspicion that Theophila really may—really has—really did——
Mrs. Emptage.
Kate, I will not permit you to say such a thing!
Mrs. Quinton Twelves.
Why these miserable-looking gowns then? You are dressed more funereally to-day than you were yesterday!
Mrs. Emptage.
[Tearfully.] If you live to see a daughter of yours, however innocent she may be, dragged through the Divorce Court——!
Justina.
We haven’t been quite certain what we ought to put on.