“One would understand you much better,” said Doris, who for a few moments had been swallowing violently as a preliminary to speech—“one would understand you much better if what you objected to was thousands of people reading that you’d been unfaithful to the husband you once loved so much.”
“But it wouldn’t be true.”
“They’d believe it all the same—naturally, if the decree was given against you.”
“I don’t care about that—it’s what’s true that I mind people knowing.”
“Don’t be a fool,” interrupted Sir John—“you’re not going to disgrace your family for an idea like that.”
“I’ll disgrace it worse if I give the thing all the extra publicity of a defended suit.”
“But, Mary dear,” said Lady Alard—“think how dreadful it will be for us as well as for you if the decree is given against you. There’s Jenny, now—it’s sure to interfere with her prospects—What did you say, Jenny?”
“Nothing, Mother,” said Jenny, who had laughed.
“But you don’t seem to consider,” persisted Mary, “that even if I defend the case I may lose it—and then we’ll all be ever so much worse off than if I’d let it go quietly through.”
“And Julian have his revenge without even the trouble of fighting for it!” cried Sir John. “I tell you he’s got nothing of a case against you if you choose to defend it.”