’ She halted, her pistol still held firm and straight, both hands gripping it, her expressive features at once determined and uncertain. —I'll give him the edication of a prig,—teach him the use of his forks betimes,—and make him, in the end, as clever a cracksman as his father. Apparently he had projected beyond his table some hypnotic thought, for it had held him all through the dining hour. Why? Love was a word of God's, and yet her father had denied it—denied it to the Book, denied it to his own flesh and blood. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. Dim possibilities that she would not seem to look at even to herself gesticulated in the twilight background of her mind.
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