"Just wait a moment," said Ronnie frowning, "do I understand that Madame is going to disown this girl, this, what is her name—?"
"Lola," scoffed Mr. Talbot, "good heavens, you're not pretending that you don't know her! And you took her to Wechester with you—"
"Yes, of course I did," agreed Ronnie. "It is rather terrible work—straightening out the ravel of life—yes, I know her."
"Madame is disowning her, and so are the other girls. Between ourselves, Ritti has cleared out everything of Lola's and sent her trunks to a baggage office. None of her maids will talk, and naturally, none of the people who go to Ritti's. Lola has had a tip to shut up about Madame's, and if she is wise, she'll admit she's a street girl who had the cheek to walk into the party. I had to tell you, Ronnie, in case this infernal girl mentions you. She is being brought before the magistrate this afternoon."
And so came Lola from the dingy cells with her evening finery looking somewhat bedraggled, and standing in the pen, pale and defiant, heard the charge of assault preferred against her.
"Have you any witnesses to call?"
"None. All my witnesses have been standing on the box committing perjury," sobbed the girl, broken at last.
"I was invited. Mr. Talbot sent for me—he sent to Madame Ritti's—"
"Madame Ritti says that she hardly knows you. That with the exception of a few days last year, when you were staying with her, you have never been to the house," said the patient magistrate. "She made you leave her, because she found you were an undesirable."
"Your worship, there is a gentleman here who wishes to give evidence," said the usher.