"I'll kill him!" he cried shrilly. "If the rest of you are afraid to stand up for her, I will show you how a Virginia gentleman acts in such matters. I'll—"
"My boy," said Joey, very much gratified by his protege's attitude. "I like to hear you talk that way. But don't you go 'round gabbing about killing people. A word to the wise, my lad. You see wot I mean?"
David turned perfectly livid and then sank back to his seat with a groan of despair.
"You mean that my—that I've got a bad name already?"
"So far as the law is concerned, yes," said Joey gently. "You see, you are David Jenison and—well, it's a fine old name, my 'eartie, but these ain't very gallant days. It's too soon after the war, I take it."
The boy looked from one to the other, his eyes dark with the pain of understanding.
"But," he said bravely, "he must not be allowed to strike her. Why doesn't she leave him? Why not get a divorce? No woman should live with a man who strikes her. God doesn't intend that to be. He—"
"God put us all into the world and he'll take us all out of it," said the clown, philosophizing. "That's about all we ought to expect 'im to do. I don't think God 'as anything to do with matrimony. He says, 'you takes your choice and you trusts to luck, not to me. If it turns out all right,' says he, 'you can thank me, but if it goes wrong, don't blame me.' So there you are. It strikes me that God don't intend a good many things, but they 'appen just the same. As for 'er getting a divorce, she's too proud. She made 'er bed, as the feller says, and she's going to lie in it as long as there's room. She made 'er bed sixteen years ago, she did, against 'er father's wishes, and she ain't the kind to go back and say it's too 'ard for 'er to sleep in and she'd like to come 'ome and sleep in one of 'is for a change. No sirree, my lad."
"How did she come to marry such a beast as Braddock?"
"Well, that's another story. I 'ope, Casey, I'm not boring you."