"I think that I should start with Porshinger," said Pendleton--"to me he is the more contemptible and the more criminal. To try to drag a woman down after she has made a mistake, and is endeavoring to make amends for the past! Such a man is a monster." "You're right!" said Cameron, "right as gospel! And yet Lorraine may not--because in Amherst's case he dallied too long, and in Porshinger's, the law would view it as absolutely unjustifiable." "Oh, surely!" Pendleton responded, "I know that you're not recommending violence--just stating what, to my mind as well as to yours, the circumstances warrant." "I wanted to discuss Lorraine's case with you, but it isn't necessary now," Cameron remarked. "Porshinger will be only too glad if it is dropped. Lorraine can't object, for Stephanie is cleared of Dolittle's nasty story." "Our trouble, it seems, isn't any longer with Porshinger, but with Amherst and Lorraine--either to keep them apart or to persuade the latter to be sensible," Pendleton observed. "I confess that, if it were not for Stephanie, I wouldn't meddle in the affair. They might go their own gait. I'm disgusted with Lorraine." "I don't blame you," the other nodded. "But, you see, Lorraine is a client of mine and I've always been fond of him, though naturally I don't approve of his course with Stephanie." "You can go to him this evening--I shall refrain," Pendleton decided. "If you need me for anything, I'll be at the Mourrailles'. For heaven's sake! don't tell him--he may veer around and get notions as to me.--Let us have dinner. Shall I order, or do you want anything in particular?" "Only a pint of Sparkling Burgundy--anything will do for the rest," Cameron answered. Then he raised his hand for the captain of the waiters. "Will you please have Mr. Lorraine telephoned at his apartments that I'll be in to see him on an important matter at eight o'clock this evening." XXII THE SILVER CANDLESTICK Stephanie dressed with more than usual care that evening. It was the first time in two years that she had really wanted to dress for anyone--to look her best as a woman. The gown she chose--after much deliberation--was black, unrelieved by any color and made severely plain; against it the dead white of her arms and shoulders shone like ivory. She stood a moment looking in her mirror; then she took from her jewel-case a sapphire necklace--smiled at it in recollection--and clasped it about her slender throat. They were the only jewels she wore--even her rings were laid aside. She wondered if _he_ would notice the sapphires--and the absence of all other ornaments. It had been _his_ wedding gift, and he might have forgotten--yet she would wear it on the chance that he would remark it and remember. She might not permit him any liberties, but she would grant him the privilege of inferences.