“I’ll begin, by right of my profession; put the witness in the box, please.––What is your name, madam?”
“Robinette Loring,” she said demurely, clasping her hands on her knee, an almost childlike delight in the new game dimpling the corners of her mouth from time to time.
“What is your age, madam?” Lavendar hesitated just for a moment before putting this question.
“I refuse to answer; you must guess.”
“Contempt of Court––”
“Well, go on; I’m twenty-two and six weeks.”
“Thank you, you are remarkably well preserved. I can hardly believe––those six-weeks! What nationality?”
“American, of course, or half and half; with an English mother and American ideas.”
“Thank you. Where is your present place of residence?”