“Do you tell lies?”
“No, sir.”
“Have you ever told a single lie?”
“Not—yet,” she replied, almost whispering.
It was the answer of a child and affected the judge. He fussed with his papers. Perhaps his task was not easy; certainly it was not pleasant. Then he leaned forward again and fixed those deep, cavernous eyes upon the sad face.
“Do you understand what a sealed wife is?”
“I've never been told.”
“But you know there are sealed wives in Utah?”
“Yes, sir; I've been told that.”
Judge Stone halted there, watching her. The hall was silent except for faint rustlings and here and there deep breaths drawn guardedly. The vital question hung like a sword over the white-faced girl. Perhaps she divined its impending stroke, for she sat like a stone with dilating, appealing eyes upon her executioner.