“Oh, I don’t know. How can one know what one’s doing—What does your father say?”
The girls were in one of the small reception-rooms. Hal removed Patience’s hat and gloves.
“Oh, this has been the most terrible day of my life,” she said evasively. “But you must be prudent, Patience dear. You must wear black—What is it?”
A servant had entered the room.
“Mr. Peele would like to see Mrs. Beverly in the library!”
Patience rose and shook herself a little, as if she would shake her nerves into place. Hal’s face flushed, and she turned away.
As Patience crossed the hall she met Latimer Burr. He held out his hand and pressed hers warmly.
“This is terrible, Patience,” he said; “but remember that Hal and I are always your friends. If the worst comes to the worst I’ll send you my attorney. Remember that, and don’t engage any one else, for he’s one of the ablest criminal lawyers in the country.”
“Oh, you are good!” she said. She smiled even through the grateful tears which sprang to her eyes. Burr had grown a visible inch. His chest and lips were slightly extended.
Mr. Peele sat in a large chair, his elbows on the arms, his finger-tips lightly pressed together. As Patience stood before him she felt as if transfixed by two steel lances.