Baynell was looking down at a paper in his hand. His eyelids flickered, then he looked up steadily, with a face of quiet attention. A member of the court preferred the demand:-- "Was he ever a suitor for your hand?" "Yes." Her face had flushed, but she kept her eyes steadily fixed on the questioner. The president of the court cleared his throat as if minded to speak. Then obviously with the view of avoiding misunderstandings as to dates he formulated the query: "Was this recent? May I ask _when_ you declined his proposal?" "I am not certain of the date," she replied. "It was--let me think--it was the evening of a day when the neighborhood sewing-circle met at my uncle's house. I remember, now--it was the sixth of May." "Did Captain Baynell attend the meeting of the sewing-circle?"--the judge-advocate permitted himself an edge of satire. "He was present, and Colonel Ashley, and Lieutenant Seymour." "Oh!" said the judge-advocate, at a loss. At a loss and doubtful, but encouraged. To his mind she offered the key to the situation. Keenly susceptible to feminine influence himself, he fancied he could divine its effect on another man. He proceeded warily, reducing his question to writing, while on various faces ranged about the table appeared a shade of doubt and even reprobation of the tone he was taking. "You have laid aside the insignia of mourning--yet you do not contemplate matrimony. You are very young." "I am twenty-three--as I have already stated." "You may live a long time. You may live to grow old. You propose to live alone the remainder of your days. Did you tell Captain Baynell that?" "In effect, yes." Her face had grown crimson, then paled, then the color came again in patches. But her voice did not falter, and she looked at her interlocutor with an admirable steadiness. The president again cleared his throat as if about to speak. The shade of disapprobation deepened on the listening faces. The judge-advocate leaned forward, wrote swiftly, then read in a tantalizing tone, as of one who has a clincher in reserve:-- "Now was not that a mere feminine subterfuge? You know you could hardly be _sure_ that you will never marry again--at your age." Once more the president cleared his throat, but he spoke this time. "Do you desire to push this line of investigation farther?" he said, objection eloquent in his deep, full voice. "One moment, sir." The judge-advocate had been feeling his way very cautiously, but he was flustered by the interruption, and he was conscious that he put his next question less adroitly than he had intended. "Why are you so sure, if I may ask?"