“And then,” Mrs. Elles went on, “when I do see Mr. Lawler, I cannot help thinking that he is laughing at me. He treats me like a child——”
“Instead of an erring woman!” said Egidia. “Well, you should not wear your hats so terribly on one side. The dignity of crime——”
“Yes, I must really get something plainer!” Mrs. Elles returned, taking her literally. “I nearly cried to-day, and it did not go with my hat at all.”
“Why did you cry?”
“Because—I can stand a good deal—but when he repeated all the awful things that woman was prepared to swear against me, I nearly gave way. The whole case, they say, stands on her evidence, and it is false, outrageously false. She always hated me, she cared for Mr. Rivers herself. It was notorious that she did.”
Egidia sneered a little, almost in spite of herself. “Who next?” she said.
“She was very nearly a lady,” Mrs. Elles said apologetically, “and he was kind to her, but he never flirted with her—of that I am convinced. But if the jury believe her, Mortimer will get his case, to a certainty!”
“Did they tell you the details—of what she was going to say?” asked Egidia, shyly and awkwardly.
Mrs. Elles told her, at some length, but without much hesitation.
“Oh, she can’t realize!” thought Egidia, brooding. “She can have no imagination!”