through it all? A trial, perhaps, the suspense, and all the time that
guilty knowledge behind--yours and mine!"

"Pooh!" she exclaimed lightly. "I am not a sentimentalist. I am a woman
in love."

"But, Elizabeth, I am guilty!" he groaned. "That's the horror of it! I'd
take the risk if I were an innocent man--I'd risk everything. But I am
afraid to stand there and know that every word they say against me will
be true, and every word of the men who speak in my defence will be false.
Can't you realise the black, abominable horror of it? I couldn't drag you
into such a plight, Elizabeth! I was weak to think of it. I couldn't!"

"You'll drag me nowhere," she answered, holding him tightly. "Where I go
my feet will lead me, and my love for you. You can't help that. We'll
play the game--play it magnificently, Philip. My faith in you will count
for something."

"But, dear," he protested, "don't you see? If the case ever comes into
court, even if I get off, every one will know that it is through a
technicality. The evidence is too strong. Half the world at least will
believe me guilty."

"It shan't come into court," she proclaimed confidently. "I shall talk to
Dane. I have some influence with the police authorities here. I shall
point out how ridiculous it all is. What's the use of formulating a
charge that they can never, never prove?"

"Unless," he reminded her hesitatingly, "Beatrice--"