"After he deserted you?"
Before Mrs. Davis could answer the last question, Townsend straightened the spectacles on his nose and entered the case. Slowly welling within him was a jealousy now overwhelming. His political ambitions alone had stood in the way of his descending from the bench and throwing Thomas out of the court-room. It was only by remaining silent that he had curbed his temper. Now it broke away from him, and he turned, thundering, "So far, Mr. Thomas, the witness has not testified that her husband deserted her!"
"Oh—" Margaret Davis turned squarely in her chair, pursing her carmine lips into an irresistible moue. "Of course he deserted me! We were playing in Chicago, and I went West and he stayed there and—"
"That looks to me, madam, as if you deserted him. So far, your testimony has not brought out anything to substantiate your complaint."
Tears unrestrained burst forth at this moment. The thought that not only had she lost all chance of securing her freedom, but that Lemuel Townsend, whose attentions had helped to while away a six months which would otherwise have been dull to one accustomed to a barrage of suitors at the stage door, was more than she could bear. Pointing to Thomas, she sobbed into a purple silk handkerchief that smelled not faintly of patchouli. "That's because he told me to do nothing but answer his questions, and then he asked me all the wrong things—" Her emotion, out of bounds, spent itself in a cataract of tears. Unable to go on, she sat there, trying to stem the tears with a handkerchief inadequate for their volume.
Thomas tried to save his case. "Your Honor—I—"
He hesitated, Margaret Davis coming to his rescue. "Oh, I don't mean to blame you," she said to him, addressing the last of her remark to the judge. "He doesn't know anything about my case!"
What Lemuel Townsend would have liked to do at that moment was to have taken her in his arms and reassure her, as old fools are apt to do with naïve young creatures. But her apparent friendliness with Thomas and her deceitfulness in employing him for her attorney was more than he could condone. He would not relax his stern exterior, although his interior was softening. "Then, why," he asked, in measured tones, "is he appearing for you if he does not understand your case?"
Recognizing the opportunity for explanation, Margaret wiped her eyes, sniffed, and, went on: "My lawyer's sick, you see. And I wanted to tell you all about it, but Mr. Thomas explained that I couldn't see you. And he said he'd do everything for me, and you'd give me a divorce without any trouble at all."
Thomas whitened and turned to the table, where he fingered his brief-case nervously. He could not brave the glare which he knew Townsend was directing at him, nor the tirade he feared would follow.