"I have met him," she answered. "I believe he is incapable of cruelty—physical, mental, or temperamental—quite incapable of it."
"I have known him for twelve years," said Mrs Stanhope in her steely voice. "And you?"
"I have known him for three days," said Katharine, undaunted. "But with what you would call 'temperamental knowledge,' Mrs Stanhope. I do not believe he ever said one unkind word to any one."
"He is lucky to inspire such faith in a stranger," Mrs Stanhope remarked. "He is lucky to have such a staunch defender."
Katharine looked at her steadily for a moment, and then said:
"It is well for him that he has even a stranger to defend him, if you go about the world saying that he murdered his wife."
"You are scarcely accurate, Miss Frensham," Mrs Stanhope said, flushing. "I did not use that word."
"I am as accurate as the ordinary outside world would be in the circumstances," said Katharine.
"Ah, you are right there," drawled out Willy Tonedale. "The outside world knows nothing about temperamental tortures and temperamental murders, and all that sort of confounded subtleness. Torture is torture, and murder is murder to the outside world of ordinary dense people like myself—and others. I ought to see that man and warn him against you, cousin Julia—'pon my soul, I ought."