Before the Divorce Court
flashed a light of scandal upon his home, I felt that there was more in him
than could be discovered in casual gossip; I wished to know him better.
Something of shyness marked his manner, and like all shy men he sometimes
appeared arrogant. He had a habit of twisting his moustache nervously and
of throwing quick glances in every direction as he talked; if he found some
one's eye upon him, he pulled himself together and sat for a moment as if
before a photographer. One easily perceived that he was not a man of
liberal education; he had rather too much of the 'society' accent; his
pronunciation of foreign names told a tale. But I thought him good-hearted,
and when the penny-a-liners began to busy themselves with his affairs, I
felt sorry for him.
Nothing to his dishonour came out in the trial. He and his interesting
spouse had evidently lived a cat-and-dog life throughout the three years of
their marriage, but the countercharges brought against him broke down
completely. It was abundantly proved that he had _not_ kept a harem
somewhere near Leicester Square; that he had _not_ thrown a decanter at
Mrs. Ireton. She, on the other hand, left the court with tattered
reputation.
Pages:
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129