Let them do it."
He had opened his lips to undeceive her, but stopped in time. As a
drowning man catches at a straw, so did he catch at this suggestion in
his hopeless despair; and he suffered her to remain in it. Anything to
stave off the real, dreadful truth.
"Maude," he rejoined, "it is for your sake. If I am sensitive as to
any--any disgrace being brought home to me, I declare that I think of
you more than of myself."
"Then don't think of it. It will be fun for me, rather than anything
else. I did not imagine the Ashtons would have done it, though. I wonder
what damages they'll go in for. Oh, Val, I should like to see you in the
witness-box!"
He did not answer.
"And it was not a parson?" she continued. "I'm sure he looked as much
like one as old Ashton himself. A professional man, then, I suppose,
Val?"
"Yes, a professional man." But even that little answer was given with
some hesitation, as though it had evasion in it.
Maude broke into a laugh. "Your friend, Pleader Carr--or whatever he
calls himself--must be as thin-skinned as you are, Val, to fancy that a
rubbishing action of that sort, brought against a husband, can reflect
disgrace on the wife! Separate, indeed! Has he lived in a wood all his
life? Well, I am going upstairs."
"A moment yet, Maude! You will take a caution from me, won't you? Don't
speak of this; don't allude to it, even to me.
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