William shrank as if from a physical blow, and his sensitive egotism shivered. This, then, was to be his crowning humiliation, this crowd gathered to stare at his wife!
Of course Leigh had been looking at her; he might have known it. The boy was a fool about her, as he himself had been a fool. William felt an unbearable sensation of suffocation; the air of the crowded room was unfit to breathe. People had found him out, too. The companion of the woman who had whispered so loudly had spotted him. They were looking back covertly over their shoulders and talking in audible undertones.
“What d’you suppose he was doing?”
“That’s her husband—back there.”
“Not really! Oh, my——”
“Say! Pull Jenny’s dress——”
“She’ll want to see him.”
William turned, pushed past the men in the doorway, and almost staggered into the corridor. It was absolutely empty. Every living soul who could squeeze into the court-room had done so. A short flight of marble steps descended to a door which opened on the quadrangle and he could see the sunshine on the lowest step. He started down, bent on escape, and came face to face with Colonel Denbigh.
The old man, attired in a light gray summer suit with a white waistcoat and a broad straw hat, looked like the personification of an untroubled conscience. He held out a friendly hand.
“How are you, William? I came down to”—he hesitated and smiled gravely—“to give your father and Leigh my moral support. Can’t seem to do anything else, can I? Anything for you?” he added, after a moment’s farther hesitation.