"But juries—and the public—don't know. All they can do is to hear the story and then make up their minds. If you choose to let them hear your story——"
"There was nothing! I did nothing! Nothing——" she faltered.
"But God knows the facts look ugly," he retorted, with smirking composure. "You're a clever girl; ask yourself what you'd think if the facts about you and young Desboro—you and me—were skillfully brought out?"
She sat dumb, frightened, twisting her fingers; then, in the sudden anger born of torture:
"If I am disgraced, what will happen to you!" she flashed out—and knew in the same breath that the woman invariably perishes where the man usually survives; and sat silent and pallid again, her wide eyes restlessly roaming about her as though seeking refuge.
"Also," he said, "if you sue the Tattler for slander, there's Munger, you know. He saw us in Philadelphia that night——"
"What!"
"Certainly. And if a jury learned that you and I were in the same——"
"I did not dream you were to be in the same hotel—in those rooms—you miserable——"
"Easy, little lady! Easy, now! Never mind what you did or didn't dream. You're up against reality, now. So never mind about me at all. Let that Philadelphia business go; it isn't essential. I've enough to work on without that!"