But she kept her head above the flood that filled her heart, and the clear eyes fixed upon Poindexter, albeit pained, were undimmed.
"But this would require time," said Poindexter, with a smile of compassionate explanation; "you could not sell now, nobody would buy.
You are safe to hold this property while you are in actual possession, but you are not strong enough to guarantee it to another.

There may still be litigation; your husband has other creditors than these people you have talked with.

But while nobody could oust you--the wife who would have the sympathies of judge and jury--it might be a different case with any one who derived title from you.

Any purchaser would know that you could not sell, or if you did, it would be at a ridiculous sacrifice." She listened to him abstractedly, walked to the end of the corridor, returned, and without looking up, said,-- "I suppose you know her ?" "I beg your pardon ?" "This woman.

You have seen her ?" "Never, to my knowledge." "And you are his friend! That's strange." She raised her eyes to his.
"Well," she continued impatiently, "who is she?
and what is she?
You know that surely ?" "I know no more of her than what I have said," said Poindexter.