I didn't need to ask my question here.
The day, you remember, when that fat party throwed a gun on me in your court, an'-- " "Oh! Hush!" whispered Jane, blindly holding up her hands.
"I seen in your face that Dyer, now a bishop, was the proselyter who ruined Milly Erne." For an instant Jane Withersteen's brain was a whirling chaos and she recovered to find herself grasping at Lassiter like one drowning.

And as if by a lightning stroke she sprang from her dull apathy into exquisite torture.
"It's a lie! Lassiter! No, no!" she moaned.

"I swear--you're wrong!" "Stop! You'd perjure yourself! But I'll spare you that.

You poor woman! Still blind! Still faithful!...

Listen.