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Updated: September 24, 2025
A rare smile curved her thin lips, but he did not see it. "Suppose I told you that you were one of many?" she said. "Would you give it all up?" "I don't know. Am I?" "No. Do you think, if you were, I should have kept my women friends, Tippie Chetwinde, Delia Ingleton and all the rest?" "I suppose not," he said. But he remembered tones in Mrs.
About an hour before the close of the sitting the heat in the court became almost suffocating, and the Judge told Mrs. Clarke she might continue her evidence sitting down. She refused this favor. "I'm not at all tired, my lord," she said. "She's made of iron," Mrs. Chetwinde murmured to Dion. "Though she generally looks like a corpse. She was haggard even as a girl."
He drew forth a beautiful Indian handkerchief a gift from his devoted friend the Viceroy of India and passed it over a face which looked unusually old. Mrs. Chetwinde said: "I expected you to win, Cynthia. It was stupid of the jury to be so slow in arriving at the inevitable verdict. But stupid people are as lethargic as silly ones are swift. How shall we get to the carriage?
"Canon Wilton's coming in presently," said Mrs. Chetwinde. "He's preaching at St. Paul's this afternoon, or perhaps it's Westminster Abbey something of that kind." "I've heard him two or three times," answered Dion, who was on very good, though not on very intimate, terms with Canon Wilton. "I'd rather hear him than anybody." "In the pulpit yes, I suppose so. I'm scarcely an amateur of sermons.
She's staying with Mrs. Chetwinde. Esme Darlington, who's an old friend of hers, thinks her too unconventional for a diplomatist's wife." Bruce Evelin had lighted his cigar. "We mustn't forget that our friend Darlington has always run tame rather than wild," he remarked, with a touch of dry satire.
Dion heard this murmur, which did not seem to be addressed to any particular person. It had come from Mrs. Chetwinde, who now got up and went to speak to Mrs. Clarke. The whole court was in movement. Dion went out to have a hasty lunch with Daventry. "A pity she said that!" Daventry said in a low voice to Dion, hitching up his gown. "Juries like to be deferred to."
He mentioned several, both women and men, among them a lady who was famed for her exclusiveness as well as for her brains. Evidently Mrs. Chetwinde had been speaking by the book when she had said at the trial, "If she wins, she wins, and it's all right. If she gets the verdict, the world won't do anything, except laugh at Beadon Clarke."
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