“No,” she said drearily.
“Well; means to procure good counsel for your husband’s defence.”
“He said that you must have procured the counsel he already has.”
“I? No, my child; no, I did not even think of such a thing. How could I?”
“Who then has paid fees to this man who has been to my husband?”
“I do not know. I cannot say.”
Millicent rose heavily, her eyes wandering, her face deadly white.
“I can do no more here,” she said, wringing her hands and passing one over the other in a weak, helpless way; and as Sir Gordon watched her, he saw a faint smile come over her pinched features. She was gazing down at her wedding ring, which seemed during the past few weeks to have begun to hang loosely on her finger. She raised it reverently to her lips, and kissed it in a rapt, absent way, gazing round at last as if wondering why she was there.
“Justice! You have promised justice,” she cried suddenly, with a mental light irradiating her face. “I know I may trust you.”
“You may,” he said reverently, for this woman’s love seemed to inspire him with awe.