“And who have not imagined that they had rights which your company was bound to respect,” said the widow.
“Exactly,” replied Barry. “Who have not harassed us with ridiculous lawsuits, which they could never hope to win.”
“I trust,” said the widow, “that you will pardon me for that presumption. I didn’t know, really, how ridiculous and unreasonable my lawsuit was until the judge informed me from the bench.”
“No, I suppose not. But when you learned, by judicial pronouncement, in what a false position you had been placed, you discharged your lawyer and dropped the case. That was very wise and proper. And, in view of that fact, we have decided to be especially liberal toward you. We—we have usually paid to—to——”
Whether his nerves had been unstrung by the sight of the death chamber, or whether his senses were being dulled by the fascination of magnetic eyes, of perfect, parted lips disclosing white and even teeth, of a feminine charm which appealed to him irresistibly; whatever may have been the cause, he had lost his easy loquacity and was stumbling along in a manner most unusual for him.
“We have generally paid,” he repeated, “to widows of—of——”
“Victims,” she suggested.
“Yes; of victims of—of their own carelessness and lack of brains,—always as a gift—a gift pure and simple, you know—the sum of two hundred and fifty dollars.”
“I understand,” she said. “A pure and simple gift.”
“Exactly.”