"He was only doing his duty, Mrs. Légère. It's the law, you know."
"What if it is? I didn't make it. What I don't like to see is the way you people'll go back on your friends because somethin' or other's the law."
She gathered her silk skirts free of contamination by the low crowd in the court-room, and made her way to a waiting taxicab outside.
"I think," she said, as that vehicle began to pump through the streets, "I'll pay a little call on Mr. Wesley Dyker."
She found him, somewhat surprised beneath his drooping lids, at his office, and he immediately agreed to see her alone.
"Now then," she said pleasantly, seating herself unasked before his desk and leaning easily back in her chair, "what I want to know is: Am I goin' to be let alone?"
Dyker stroked his crisp mustache. He wanted to gain time.
"You were acquitted, then?" he asked.
"Looks like it, don't it? See here, Wes, I know where all my trouble come from, an' I can pretty well guess how it come; but I'm willin' to ferget it if you are. Are you?"
Dyker's slow eyes were raised to hers, then lowered.