His tone was kind, and this the girl seemed to resent.
"Don't you worry," she sneered, "I'm strong enough. Strong enough to
tell _all_ I know--to you, and to the papers, and to a jury--until I get
justice." She clinched her free hand and feebly shook it at him.
"_That's_ what I'm going to get," she cried, her voice breaking
hysterically, "justice."
From behind the armchair in which the girl half-reclined Mrs. Earle
caught the eye of the district attorney and shrugged her shoulders.
"Just what _did_ happen?" asked Wharton.
Apparently with an effort the girl pulled herself together.
"I first met your brother-in-law--" she began.
Wharton interrupted quietly.
"Wait!" he said. "You are not talking to me as anybody's brother-in-law,
but as the district attorney."
The girl laughed vindictively.
"I don't wonder you're ashamed of him!" she jeered.
Again she began: "I first met Ham Cutler last May. He wanted to marry me
then. He told me he was not a married man."
As her story unfolded, Wharton did not again interrupt; and speaking
quickly, in abrupt, broken phrases, the girl brought her narrative to
the moment when, as she claimed, Cutler had attempted to kill her.
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