"No matter what your motives were, sir, you presumed when you told the plaintiff what the court's rulings would be." He turned abruptly from Thomas and leaned graciously toward the plaintiff. "Now, Mrs. Davis," he resumed, "let me question you. Why did you leave your husband in Chicago?" Reassured, Margaret bridled coyly and answered, lifting her lids to the judge: "Because he didn't show up for a performance and I had to go on alone--and afterward the manager told him the act was better without him. And he sulked and stayed away from the theater all the rest of the week and on our next jump he refused to go with me." Her last words dwindled into a plaintive whine. "And you were obliged to go without him?" Lem Townsend subtly gave a slight nod of his head which Margaret caught and interpreted into a vigorous acquiescence with her own curly blond head. "Did you try to have him go with you?" Again the hint and again Margaret scored her point. "Of course I did!" she responded. "I mean, yes--your Honor. But he said he'd show me how long I could go it on my own; but I showed _him_, for I've never seen him since. I only heard from him once and that was when I sent him money." "Have you tried to see him?" Lem Townsend asked the last question grudgingly, but he felt that his own honor in the case was in danger of impeachment, and he was sure that his slight nod would be followed as it had before. He was right. "Of course I did. Mr. Blackmore--he was our manager--gave me his sworn statement." Townsend for the first time really saw the paper in front of him. He read it carefully, answering in tones of quick delight. "Yes, here it is and a deposition dated Chicago stating that Davis left you without warning and refused to dance with you again." "Yes, your Honor," she cooed. There was silence while Townsend scrutinized the papers in front of him. Margaret sat with her eyes anxiously fastened on him. With a nod of satisfaction he shoved the papers aside and, smiling down at her, announced in kindly tones, "Your decree is granted." "Your Honor!" She arose from her chair and sat down in it again, a copious flow of tears making it impossible for her to leave the stand. Townsend reached for the glass of water and held it toward her once again. "Please, please, Mrs. Davis," he endeavored to calm her, but his compassion only served to bring on another storm. "I'm _so_ emotional," she sobbed, "I can't stop it!" Townsend looked about helplessly. A sudden awakening to his own prerogative solved the dilemma. "Mr. Sheriff, announce a recess," he ordered. And leaving the bench, he went to Mrs. Davis and guided her into his chambers. The crowd filed out of the court-room, while Thomas, weak with shame and disappointment, took his seat at the table again, impatiently toying with a paper-knife that had fallen from his pin-seal brief-case.