Mrs. Fenton laid her hand on Mr. Harding’s arm and almost shook it as she asked,
“What does he mean? What—does—he—mean?”
How the necks stretched and the ears strained to catch the counsel’s answer!
But he whispered to the woman at his side, who, with her arms thrown about the children, seemed oblivious of the eyes glutting themselves upon her.
“Impossible!” she kept repeating, “it is impossible!”
The old lawyer shook his head gravely and glanced uneasily at the defendant. Again he whispered to the young wife, speaking rapidly and stopping her interruptions with the pressure of his hand upon her arm, till at length she burst out in a frightened undertone,
“But I tell you it is impossible! It shall not be done!”
Sargent rose and crossed to where the two were talking.
“Pardon me for interrupting,” he said to Mr. Harding, “but I apprehend this decision is a surprise to Mrs. Fenton. Can we not arrange that the matter shall go no further?”