Rush walked up and down the room for a few moments in silence. Mrs. Balfame sat back and folded her hands. She was haunted by a vague sense of inefficiency, of having not quite risen to the occasion, but she felt there could be no doubt that she not only had impressed the reporters as an innocent woman but as a perfect lady. The rest didn't matter.

"Are you really not a bit nervous?" demanded Rush, swinging on his heel and confronting her.

"I will not permit myself to be. And except that I hate publicity, I really do not dread the trial. It means the beginning of the end of this detestable prison life. I want to be out and free. A week in a courtroom is not too heavy a price to pay."

"Have you ever been to a murder trial?"

"Of course not. Such a thing would never have occurred to me."

Rush sighed. She had no imagination. But as her counsel he reminded himself that he should be grateful for the lack; he wanted no scenes, either in the courtroom or here in the imminent hours. But he would have welcomed a little more feminine shrinking, appeal to his superior strength. Even when he had worshipped her from afar, she had never moved him so powerfully as on the day of her arrest when she had flung herself over the table in an abandonment to despair as complete as the most exacting male could wish. That incident had long since taken on the shifting outlines of a dream. If she had felt any tremors since then she had concealed them from him.

"Tell me," he asked almost wistfully, "are you not terribly frightened at times? You are alone here so much. And it has been an experience to try even a strong man's nerves."

"Women nowadays really have better nerves than men. We not only lead a far fuller and more varied life than our predecessors, but you men work at such a terrific strain that it is a wonder you retain any control of your nerves at all. I will admit that I did have attacks of fear at first. It was all so strange and odd. But I got over them. You can get used to anything, I guess. And I have a strong will. I just made myself think about something else. This war has been a godsend. Have you noticed my new maps? I've really read about twenty war books, besides all the editorials, and they have given me a distaste for lighter reading, and really developed my—my—intellect. That seems such a big word. And then I've knitted dozens of things for the children and soldiers, and felt as if I were of some use for the first time in my life."

She glanced at him shyly, as he stared through the bars of one of the windows. The suppressions of a lifetime made it impossible to betray any depth of feeling save under terrible stress. She was ashamed of her breakdown before him on the day of her arrest, but she was conscious of the wish that she were able to infuse her cool even tones with warmth, to make them tremulous at the right moment; but if she attempted to betray something of her newer self even in her eyes, self-consciousness overcame her and she dropped the lids almost in a panic.

She wondered if love broke down those cliffs of ice that seemed to encompass a new-born soul. Or was it merely that the other members of her personal company, mature, jealous, self-sufficient, resented the intrusion of this shrinking alien? They had got on quite well without it; they felt no yearning for possible complications, readjustments. With all their quiet force they discouraged the stranger. Before any of the supreme experiences, including love, they might be routed, the new force might spring up in an instant like a flower from the magic soils of India—but not while the conventions bulwarked them. Their sum was Mrs. Balfame of Elsinore, and not for a moment did they permit themselves to forget it.

Moreover, it was quite true that she had conquered her first apprehensions and welcomed the trial as the initial step toward freedom. Her poise had always been remarkable, the result in part of a self-centred life and a will driven relentlessly in a narrow groove. More than ever was she determined to sit through those long days in the courtroom with the cold aloofness of the unfortunate women of history. The very ascents she had made of secret and solitary heights alone would have restored her poise, for she felt on far more friendly terms with herself than when living with a wretch she loathed, and dreaming of no higher altitudes then complete success in Elsinore. But she wished for the first time that she were a younger woman, or had made those ascents many years ago; she would have liked to reveal herself spontaneously to this interesting young man who was so deeply in love with her.

Suddenly she wondered if he were as ardently in love with her as in that brief period when they had talked of themselves. Not loving him in return, she had been content with lip-service, the sure knowledge that all his fine abilities were at work upon the obstacles to her freedom; and she would have been deeply annoyed if he had broken the pact made on the day of her arrest and reiterated his devotion and his hopes.

But significant happenings—omissions—a certain flatness.... She turned her head sharply and looked at him. He was still staring moodily through the bars.

If far too diffident to show the best that was in her, she found it comparatively simple to practice the feminine art of angling, albeit with a somewhat heavy hand.

She asked softly: "Don't you think I did the wise thing to tell them I intended to travel as soon as I was acquitted? It surely would be in better taste than to settle down here—in that house!"

"Did you mean it? The intention would make a good impression on the public, certainly."

"Why, of course I meant it. I am not a good hand at saying things merely for effect."

"Where shall you go? Europe is rather impossible."

"Oh, not altogether. There is always Italy. And there is no danger from Zeppelins in the interior of Great Britain. And there is Spain—"

"I think Europe a very good place for women to keep away from until the war is over. Any of the nations may become involved at any minute—ourselves, for that matter. Better follow the advice of advertisers and see America first."

"Yes, I could visit the Expositions in California, and camp for a while in Glacier Park, and there are the Yellowstone and Grand CaÑon—but all that would only consume a few months—and then there is this winter to think of. What I feel I should do is to stay away for a year, at least—"

"You could live very pleasantly in Southern California."

"I should be very conspicuous in those small fashionable settlements. The case has been telegraphed all over the country, and I have seen dreadful pictures of myself in several Western papers."

"Well, you might live quietly in New York until the war is over. There is no better place to hide—if you avoid the restaurants and theatres. And after all, even a cause cÉlÈbre is quickly forgotten if there is no aftermath. But I certainly advise against even sailing for Europe until peace is declared. There is always the danger of mines and too enthusiastic submarines."

She turned quite cold and stared at her hands. They were well-shaped but large, and they looked like blocks of white marble on her black gown. He was still at the window, and his tone was listless. She had a curious sense of panic in the region of her heart. But instantly she curled her lip with defiant scorn. Was she the woman to fancy herself in love with a man the moment she seemed to be in danger of losing him? Besides, no doubt, the poor man was tired, and too absorbed in the case to have any room in him for the moods of the lover. Only a foolish impulsive woman would in conditions like the present try to rouse a dormant passion. When she was free, and he as well, his heart would automatically take precedence once more and he would plead ardently for the privilege of marrying her. That was quite in order.

She rose briskly. "Let me show you this map," she said. "It is the very latest—Letitia Battle brought it to me two days ago. And do smoke."

"Thanks, but I must go over and watch those girls. Yes, it is a fine map. This war certainly is a godsend! Good luck. Keep up those splendid spirits. You're all right."