t turn things against us."

"Why did she make a friend of the fellow?"

"Because he's chock-full of talent and knowledge, and she loves both.
Dion, my boy, the mind can play the devil with us as well as the body.
But I hope--I hope for the right verdict. Anyhow I've done well, and
shall get other cases out of this. The odd thing is that Mrs. Clarke's
drained me dry of egoism. I care only to win for her. I couldn't bear to
see her go out of court with a ruined reputation. My nerves are all on
edge. If Mrs. Clarke loses, how d'you think she'll take it?"

"Standing up."

"I expect you're right. But I don't believe I shall take it standing.
Perhaps some women make us men feel for them more than they feel for
themselves. Don't look at me in court whatever you do."

They had arrived at the Law Courts. He hurried away.

Dion's place was again beside Mrs. Chetwinde, who looked unusually
alive, and whose vagueness had been swept away by something--anxiety
for her friend, perhaps, or the excitement of following day after day an
unusually emotional _cause celebre_.

Now, as Sir John Addington stood up to continue his speech on Mrs.
Clarke's behalf, begun on the previous day, Mrs. Chetwinde leaned
forward and fixed her eyes upon him, closing her fingers tightly on the
fan she had brought with her.

Sir John spoke with an earnestness and conviction which at certain
moments rose almost to passion, as he drew the portrait of a woman whose
brilliant mind and innocent nature had led her into the unconventional
conduct which her enemies now asserted were wickedness. Beadon Clarke's
counsel had suggested that Mrs. Clarke was an abominable woman,
brilliantly clever, exquisitely subtle, who had chosen as an
armor against suspicion a bold pretense of simplicity and harmless
unconventionality, but who was the prey of a hidden and ungovernable
vice. He, Sir John, ventured to put forward for the jury's careful
examination a very different picture. He made no secret of the fact
that, from the point of view of the ordinary unconventional man or
woman, Mrs. Clarke had often acted unwisely, and, with not too fine a
sarcasm, he described for the jury the average existence of "a careful
drab woman" in the watchful and eternally gossiping diplomatic world.
Then he contrasted with it the life led by Mrs. Clarke in the wonderful
city of Stamboul--a life "full of color, of taste, of interest, of
charm, of innocent, joyous and fragrant liberty. W