Maud Welsh's rigid face told him the ten minutes of anticipation might have been punishment enough. He had not intended that: merely a courtroom happen-so. "Miss Welsh, contempt of court is a serious thing. It must be, to preserve respect for law. For willfully disregarding the instructions given you about limiting your answers and avoiding prejudicial comments, you could, if this court so ordered, be severely punished." There she goes sniffling, and to some of the jury she'll have the face of Mom. "It is not the present intention of the Court to hold you in contempt. You are being let off with a warning, for the last time. Consider yourself fortunate. Mr. Warner?"
"Miss Welsh, I quote to you certain words: 'Assume a virtue if you have it not.' Are those words familiar to you?"
Her streaked face glowing, perhaps with relief, Maud Welsh also looked bewildered. "No—no, sir, I don't think so."
"Have you ever read Shakespeare's play Hamlet?"
"I'm sure we had it in school, but—" she smiled placatingly—"that's quite a while. I never get the time to read much."
"Here are some other famous lines from the same source: 'Forgive me this my virtue; for in the fatness of these pursy times virtue itself of vice must pardon beg'—familiar?"
"That's what I heard C'lista say to her mother."
"Did you overhear anything else?"
"I wasn't eavesdropping, sir."
"You're not accused of it." Warner was speaking gently. "We're only concerned with what you heard. Was there anything else?"