Wharton was standing on the rug, talking; Mrs.
Boyce was listening to what he had to say with the light repellent air Marcella knew so well.
When she came in Wharton stepped forward ceremoniously to shake hands, then began to speak at once, with the manner of one who is on a business errand and has no time to waste.
"I thought it best, Miss Boyce, as I had unexpectedly a couple of spare hours this evening, to come and let you know how things were going.

You understand that the case comes on at the assizes next Thursday ?" Marcella assented.

She had seated herself on the old sofa beside the fire, her ungloved hands on her knee.

Something in her aspect made Wharton's eyes waver an instant as he looked down upon her--but it was the only sign.
"I should like to warn you," he said gravely, "that I entertain no hope whatever of getting James Hurd off.

I shall do my best, but the verdict will certainly be murder; and the judge, I think, is sure to take a severe view.