"You did not stop to consider me! Why did you let them do this thing to you? It all falls on me. The intolerable disgrace, shame, humiliation! You, a felon, a convict, a common thief, a forger!" One after another she hurled these epithets at him, while Flomerfelt discreetly withdrew. Wilkinson looked at Morehead for sympathy; then he answered with illy assumed contrition: "Yes, my dear." "I can't face anybody--not my dearest friends," went on the lady. "I shall never be able to go anywhere again--never." Wilkinson grinned feebly at his lawyer. "They say I won't, either, for the next ten years," he said, in soothing tones. His jibe aroused the sleeping tigress in her. The lady rose and pointed toward the door. Her gown was a masterpiece of dressmaking art, for singular as it may seem her income had not been stopped. Upon her breast lay jewels worth many thousands; about her neck was clasped a dog-collar weighted with heavy pearls; and her fingers sparkled with gems. "You can go!" exclaimed the lady, stamping her foot--this lady who would have been nobody without the wealth that this man had lavished on her. "All these years you've considered everybody but your wife," she went on. "I've had to bear the brunt of it all. I--I.... The idea of you letting them send you up for ten years, of heaping all this infamy on me! I shall sue for divorce, do you hear, divorce!" "Yes, my dear," said Wilkinson, again meekly glancing at his counsel. "Go!" she exclaimed; then added with commendable melodramatic force: "You and your paid hireling there, leave me!" Colonel Morehead grew purple in the face. He advanced toward his client's wife. "Madam," he began angrily. "Come, Morehead, come away!" exclaimed Wilkinson, and he led him out into the hall where he said: "Don't you know she'd have scratched your face if you'd stayed there any longer?" Tumultuously they descended the stairs and crept into the den on the floor below. "That's over," sighed the husband, setting the decanter on the table and passing the cigars. And for a while, at least, the two men smoked in peace. * * * * * Blissfully happy was the condition that Leslie told herself that she was in that evening. They had assured her after the council of war behind closed doors that everything would come out right. And now, last but not least, Beekman was alone with her and telling her the same thing. "The verdict is ridiculous," he said. "Public prejudice, that's all. The Appellate Division will fill it full of holes." "You're sure?" she asked, still a trifle dubious. Beekman smiled confidently. "Look here, Leslie," he returned consolingly, "lots of rich men have been indicted and tried lately, haven't they? You haven't heard of any of them having been imprisoned so far, have you? It's just a bit of hysteria, but the Appellate courts don't get hysterical. We'll win out upon appeal."