"I didn't bring you down here to subject her to a hostile cross-examination. I won't let you do it--especially in her present condition."
"When you've finished perhaps you'll take me to her; you don't want her to hang."
"Hang! Gilbert! God forbid! Whatever she may have done she's only a child, and I'm persuaded that at heart she's as innocent as you or me."
"If she isn't more innocent than I am I'm sorry for her. Will you take me to see this paragon of all the feminine virtues?"
"You wear your cynicism like a cloak; it's not such an essential part as you choose to imagine."
Ernest Gilbert smiled as if he would show his teeth.
Mr Stacey led the way to an apartment which was called the red drawing-room, where already that afternoon Miss Arnott had interviewed Hugh Morice and Mrs Forrester. It was a pleasant, well-lighted room, three windows ran up one side of it almost from floor to ceiling. The girl was standing in front of one of these as the two men entered, looking out on to the Italian garden, which was a blaze of sunshine and of flowers. Mr Stacey crossed to her with his somewhat exuberant, old-fashioned courtesy.
"Permit me, my dear young lady, to offer you a chair. I think you will find this a comfortable one. There, how is that?" She had seated herself, at his invitation, in a large, straight-backed armchair covered with a fine brocade, gold on a crimson background, whose age only enhanced its beauty. "As I was telling you just now, I have heard, to my great distress, that several things have happened recently, hereabouts, which could hardly tend to an increase of your comfort."
"No, indeed."
"Part of my information came from my very good friend here, and he will be your very good friend also if you will let him. Let me introduce you to Mr Ernest Gilbert."