"My dear Lady Ellerson"--old Peter Wilberforce employed his softest purr--"of course I'll settle if you want me to. But I _do_ ask you to consider the effect on your reputation. And besides, we have an excellent case. A really excellent case. Your husband's own admission, in the interrogatories, that he had discussed the question of divorcing you with other people besides his father. The fact that he never _did_ institute proceedings for a divorce, that he never had the slightest grounds for instituting such proceedings----" "Still, Mr. Vereker said----" "Can't we forget Mr. Vereker? Mr. Cavendish has assured you that legally----" "Oh, I hate the law!" burst out Lady Hermione. "I wish that Arthur----" She began to cry, in a ladylike lace-handkerchief way that made her extraordinarily alluring; and Ronnie, who had only been giving his sober opinion on the professional subtleties involved, without considering the human aspect, felt suddenly sorry for her. Women, in matrimonial cases, nearly always got the worst of it. Besides, he knew the Ellersons socially, knew a little of their history--war-marriage, quarrels about money, separation, and now this curious case in which she was suing her husband for libel and slander. It seemed a pity that they did not arrange a divorce and have done with it. The telephone rang. Benjamin Bunce came in to say that Sir Peter's office wanted him, that Mr. Justice Mallory was already summing up the preceding case, and that Ellerson _v_. Ellerson would come on immediately after the adjournment. The conference broke up. 4 "I'm afraid she won't fight it out," pronounced Wilberforce, snatching a hasty meal, at Ronnie's invitation, in the somber paneled splendor of Inner Temple Hall. All up and down the long monastic tables, under the stained-glass windows and dignified pictures, other barristers and their guests were lunching, their low talk hardly reaching their neighbors' ears. "Unless Brunton makes her," went on the solicitor. They discussed their client with some frankness for another ten minutes, consulted watches, and moved themselves to a second monastic apartment for coffee and cigarettes. "Talking of H. B.," said Wilberforce, "reminds me that I had a letter from his wife's sister the other day. She's staying with the Bruntons at Lancaster Gate, and wants me to call on her." "Really?" "You'd better come too. There's nothing like a bit of social work for getting briefs. Besides, little Mrs. Brunton's charming. We'll go next Sunday afternoon." "Sorry, I'm going to play golf." Ronnie spoke calmly, his serious face giving no hint of the emotions which his friend's suggestion had set stirring. "What made Miss Fullerford write to you?" "Oh, we've been corresponding for some time. I promised to help her about--a legal matter." Wilberforce nearly blushed. "She's a nice girl, isn't she?