"
"How do you do, Mr. Ashe?" she said with perfect calmness. "You are
just in time for a cup of tea. I am having mine early, because I came
in a little chilled."
He was too confused with the joy of her presence to decline.
"I have come on an errand which is not over pleasant," he remarked,
watching her handling the cups, "and I am afraid that it is useless
too."
"Does that mean that it is something you wish me to do but think I'm
too hard-hearted or selfish to agree to?"
"It is not a question of willingness so much as of power. Mrs. Murphy
is dying,--very likely by this time she is not living,--and she begs us
to save her husband from being punished."
"But how could that be done?"
"I doubt if it could be done; but I promised her that I would speak to
you. I suppose that if we did not give evidence there would not be much
that could be told; but I hardly think that we have the right not to."
Mrs. Fenton thoughtfully regarded the fire a moment; then seemed to be
recalled to the present by the active boiling of the little silver
teakettle.
"I'm afraid women would drive justice out of the world if they had
their way," she said with a smile.
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