"Course. I suppose I got myself to blame," lamented Cassius
ruefully. "I don't know how many times I come near to doin' it and
didn't because I was so darned chicken-hearted."

"I have decided, Cash, that you ought to go up for life,--or for
thirty years, at least. So when I go on the stand I intend to do
everything in my power to secure the maximum for you. At first, I
was reluctant to aid you in your efforts to lead a life of ease and
enjoyment but recent events have convinced me that you are entitled
to all that the law can give you."

"It won't do much good if she's to set there in the Courtroom,
snivelling and lookin' heart-broke, with a pack of half-starved kids
hangin' on to her. Like as not, she won't give 'em anything to eat
for two or three days so's they'll look the part. I remember two of
them kids fairly well. The Lord knows I used to take all kinds of
risks to provide clothes and all sorts of luxuries for them,--and
for her too. I used to give 'em bicycles and skates and gold
watches,--yes, sir, we had Christmas regularly once a month. And she
never was without fur neck-pieces and muffs and silk stockings and
everything. The trouble with that woman is, she can't stand poverty.
She just keeps on hopin' for the day to come when she can wear all
sorts of finery and jewels again, even if I do have to go to the
penitentiary for it. All this comes of bein' too good a provider,
Bill. You spoil 'em."

Mr. Yollop was thinking, so Cassius, after waiting a moment,
scratched his head and ventured:

"That guy's beginnin' to fidget, Bill. I guess your time's about up.