And for once the stranger in their midst, the man with more outward
distinction than any one of them, the unknown man with the snowy hair,
could afford to listen to what they had to say.
"No chance, my dear man. Not an earthly!"
"I'm not so sure of that."
"Will you bet?"
"No, hang it! What a beast you are! But I thought the woman was speaking
the truth."
"You heard what the judge said. Where's your corroboration? No, they
ought never to have let her go into the box. I hear she insisted. But it
hasn't saved anybody yet."
"The new law? Then it shows her pluck!"
"But not necessarily her innocence, dear boy."
Thus one shaven couple. Others had already exhausted the subject.
"Yes, I finished it down at Westgate last week."
"Satisfied?"
"In a way. It depends so much on the cast."
"These actor-managers--what?"
"More or less. I must be off. Dining out."
"What! Not going to wait for the end of the fourth act?"
"No, I'm late as it is. Ta-ta!"
The white-haired man was amused. He did not turn round, nor, if he had,
would he have known the retreating gentleman for the most eminent of
living playwrights; but he knew the reason for his sudden retreat.
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