The insinuation that anything less than a metropolis should be her abiding-place was more than she could bear and in turbulent leaps, broken by her gasps for breath, she blurted, her lips quivering and her eyes filling with tears: "I should--say--not! My husband and I were playing there. We were partners doing a dancing act--" Thomas tried to interrupt her and succeeded with half a question. "When did your husband first show signs of not loving you and--" He got no farther, for she went on, determined to get over the disagreeable business of being truthful. "He stopped loving me about a year before we were married." This time a storm of laughter surged through the court-room and it took several taps of Blodgett's gavel to regain quiet. Undaunted, she finished her story. "It's really hard to explain why we were married. You see"--she hesitated and resumed jerkily--"we were in Peoria--and we were partners--and--and--it rained all week--Well, somehow it seemed a good idea at the time." At this point it became necessary for Townsend, in order to maintain the dignity of the bench, to caution the spectators that if there were any more such outbursts of joy he would have the court-room cleared. Thomas still maintained his control, although cold perspiration was wilting his highly polished collar. "But after you were married he was cruel to you, was he not?" he asked. "I should say he was!" The answer was accompanied by an emphatic nod of the head and again she flew onward, over his head, determined that she should tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. "Why," she opened her left hand and enumerated the said Gerald Davis's shortcomings by pressing its fingers with the thumb and forefinger of her right hand, "he put his name on the bill in larger type than mine. He tried to strike me once--but he was a poor judge of distance. And--and--" she stopped. This time her appeal was directed to Thomas. "He deserted you, did he not?" Thomas eagerly took up the thread, hoping to unravel the snarl she had worked with it. "Well, we parted--" "After he deserted you?" Before Mrs. Davis could answer the last question, Townsend straightened the spectacles on his nose and entered the case. Slowly welling within him was a jealousy now overwhelming. His political ambitions alone had stood in the way of his descending from the bench and throwing Thomas out of the court-room. It was only by remaining silent that he had curbed his temper. Now it broke away from him, and he turned, thundering, "So far, Mr. Thomas, the witness has not testified that her husband deserted her!" "Oh--" Margaret Davis turned squarely in her chair, pursing her carmine lips into an irresistible moue. "Of course he deserted me! We were playing in Chicago, and I went West and he stayed there and--" "That looks to me, madam, as if you deserted him. So far, your testimony has not brought out anything to substantiate your complaint."