"They disbarred poor old Billy Gale for less than that."
She looked at him, her gray eyes winking rapidly as they did when she was interested and her mind concentrated on some absorbing problem. Then she impulsively clasped her white hands in her lap, and, leaning over, she asked out of the psychological interest the situation must soon or late have for her:
"Tell me, Gordon, just how you felt when you were--"
"Committing it?"
She nodded her head rapidly, almost impatiently.
"Well," he said with a far-away expression, "I experienced, especially when I was in Danny Gibbs's saloon, that pleasant feeling of going to hell."
"You just won't reassure me," she said, relaxing into a hopeless attitude.
"Oh, yes, I will," he replied. "Don't you remember what Emerson says?" He looked up at the portrait of the beautiful, spiritual face above the mantel.
She looked up in her vivid literary interest.
"No; tell me. He said everything."