“Not want to write anything? Of course you do! The sooner you’re free of that—that coward the better. That’s what I called you in for. You can decide just what you want to say, and I’ll have it prepared for your signature.”
She lifted her head at that, looking at him, a singular expression on her face.
“But that’s just it. I—I can’t! You see, I don’t know what I want to say at all.”
Her father suppressed an exclamation of impatience.
“I should think you’d know well enough! You’ve got to say something, or else let it go, and after a while he’ll sue you for desertion; but no one knows how long it would take him to get his courage screwed up to that. I wish”—the judge let his hand fall heavily on the papers before him—“I wish we had a clean case against him to sue on at once.”
“You mean—we haven’t any case?”
He frowned.
“We’ve got case enough, in one way; but against you—well, he’s done nothing against you but to dare to marry you, knowing what a coward he was!”
Diane continued to look at him, her eyes dilating a little, but she was silent. The judge, aware of it, looked up and encountered her expression. He pulled off his spectacles and gazed at her steadily.
“What’s the matter, Di? You look ill—I’ll have to send for Gerry.”