He stood up too. He smiled.
"You will coöperate with us, then? You will accept our proposition?"
"Coöperate? Accept your proposition? No, I won't. I'll fight! That's what I'll do. I'll prove to the world whether I'm guilty or not of the filthy things rotten-minded people have said about me. And I'm glad of the chance, too. I hope Stephen will sue me for a divorce. I said I didn't need a lawyer, when I first came here, but I need somebody to defend me against such a pack of muckrakers. Why, Mr. Smith, I have no more done the thing you come here and accuse me of doing than your own wife, or, if you're not married, your own mother, or the woman you honor the most in this world, whoever it is, and I'll get the best lawyer in this country to prove it."
Behind the belying paint and elaborate make-up the white image of this woman's innocence stood out before Morley Smith clear and defined, for an instant, like a white-sailed ship, when the fog lifts a moment—a white-sailed ship in distress. He saw it. He recognized it. He turned away from it.
"You're going through the usual motions, Mrs. Dallas," he commented with another sneer.
