"Yes sir," Schroder continued. "And what are you doing this evening?"
"Nothing, Mr. Schroder."
"Well, why waste time? How about dinner and a show?"
"Really?" She glanced at Basine as if to declare him in on this give and take. He was preoccupied, hardly observing what was happening. She pouted.
"Cross my heart," said Schroder.
"Thanks very much. A very generous, if general invitation."
"Discovered!" Schroder laughed. "All right then. Six o'clock at the Auditorium. Woman's entrance. I'll wear a red rose in my ear. Can't miss me."
Ruth nodded.
"There you are, George," Schroder cried. "All done in a minute. And tomorrow we'll be in love with each other. What'll you marry us for, your Honor? Remember I helped elect you." A boisterous laugh that seemed to mock the boastfulness and prophecies of the man and say of itself, "I'm joshing all of you including me...."
Basine left them. His heart was heavy, uncomfortable. He sat on the bench frowning at the scene. Eager lawyers whispering; a woman in a green hat holding a handkerchief to her eyes; a bald-headed man on the other side of the long mahogany table; faces for a background. A divorce case. The woman weeping was a wife. The bald-headed one with the air of a board of directors' meeting about him ogled his accusers with dignity. He was a husband. The jury sat dolorously inattentive in the box. A witness was testifying.