“Not the least in the world, ma’am.”

“How very extraordinary!  Perhaps I have been misled by my own vivid imagination.  Let me endeavor to express myself plainly—­let me say that my fancy looks prophetically at what you are going to do, and sincerely wishes you well out of it.  Pray go on.”

“And pray speak more plainly than my mother has spoken,” Mrs. Linley added.  “As I understood what you said just now, there is a law, after all, that will protect me in the possession of my little girl.  I don’t care what it costs; I want that law.”

“May I ask first,” Mr. Sarrazin stipulated, “whether you are positively resolved not to give way to your husband in this matter of Kitty?”

“Positively.”

“One more question, if you please, on a matter of fact.  I have heard that you were married in Scotland.  Is that true?”

“Quite true.”

Mr. Sarrazin exhibited himself once more in a highly unprofessional aspect.  He clapped his hands, and cried, “Bravo!” as if he had been in a theater.

Mrs. Linley caught the infection of the lawyer’s excitement.  “How dull I am!” she exclaimed.  “There is a thing they call ’incompatibility of temper’—­and married people sign a paper at the lawyer’s and promise never to trouble each other again as long as they both live.  And they’re readier to do it in Scotland than they are in England.  That’s what you mean—­isn’t it?”

Mr. Sarrazin found it necessary to reassume his professional character.

“No, indeed, madam,” he said, “I should be unworthy of your confidence if I proposed nothing better than that.  You can only secure the sole possession of little Kitty by getting the help of a judge—­”

“Get it at once,” Mrs. Linley interposed.

“And you can only prevail on the judge to listen to you,” Mr. Sarrazin proceeded, “in one way.  Summon your courage, madam.  Apply for a divorce.”

There was a sudden silence.  Mrs. Linley rose trembling, as if she saw—­not good Mr. Sarrazin—­but the devil himself tempting her.  “Do you hear that?” she said to her mother.

Mrs. Presty only bowed.

“Think of the dreadful exposure!”

Mrs. Presty bowed again.

The lawyer had his opportunity now.

“Well, Mrs. Linley,” he asked, “what do you say?”

“No—­never!” She made that positive reply; and disposed beforehand of everything that might have been urged, in the way of remonstrance and persuasion, by leaving the room.  The two persons who remained, sitting opposite to each other, took opposite views.

“Mr. Sarrazin, she won’t do it.”

“Mrs. Presty, she will.”

Chapter XXVI.

Decision.

Punctual to his fishing appointment with Kitty, Mr. Sarrazin was out in the early morning, waiting on the pier.