For answer she took the _Clarion_ and tossed it into the waste-basket. She glared at him, quivering all over, in her hands a convulsive itch for physical vengeance. "If I thought that in all your fine talk about the city there was one single word of sincerity, I might respect you," she said with slow and scathing contempt. "But your words are the words of a mere poseur--of a man who twists the truth to fit his desires--of a man who deals in the ideas that seem to him most profitable--of a man who cares not how poor, how innocent, is the body he uses as a stepping stone for his clambering greed and ambition. Oh, I know you--I have watched you--I have read you. You are a mere self-seeker! You are a demagogue! You are a liar! And, on top of that, you are a coward!" Whatever Arnold Bruce was, he was a man with a temper. Fury was blazing behind his heavy spectacles. "Go on! I care _that_ for the words of a woman who has so little taste, so little sense, so little modesty, as to leave the sphere----" "You boor!" gasped Katharine. "Perhaps I am. At least I am not afraid to speak the truth straight out even to a woman. You are all wrong. You are unwomanly. You are unsexed. Your pretensions as a lawyer are utterly preposterous, as the trial on Thursday will show you. And the condemnation of the town is not half as severe a rebuke----" "Stop!" gasped Katherine. A wild defiance surged up and overmastered her, her nerves broke, and her hot words tumbled out hysterically. "You think you are a God-anointed critic of humanity, but you are only a heartless, conceited cad! Just wait--I'll show you what your judgment of me is worth! I am going to clear my father! I am going to make this Westville that condemns me kneel at my feet! and as for you--you can think what you please! But don't you ever dare to speak to my father again--don't you ever dare speak to me again--don't you ever dare enter this house again! Now go! Go! I say. Go! Go! Go!" His face had grown purple; he seemed to be choking. For a space he gazed at her. Then without answering he bowed slightly and was gone. She glared a moment at the door. Then suddenly she collapsed upon the floor, her head and arms on the old haircloth sofa, and her whole body shook with silent sobs. Doctor West, first gazing at her a little helplessly, sat down upon the sofa, and softly stroked her hair. For a time there were no words--only her convulsive breathing, her choking sobs. Presently he said gently: "I'm sure you'll do everything you said." "No--that's the trouble," she moaned. "What I said--was--was just a big bluff. I won't do any--of those things. Your trial is two days off--and, father, I haven't one bit of evidence--I don't know what we're going to do--and the jury will have to--oh, father, father, that man was right; I'm just--just a great big failure!" Again she shook with sobs. The old man continued to sit beside her, softly stroking her thick brown hair. CHAPTER VII THE MASK FALLS