The young lawyer smiled, and coloured slightly. His lovely client evidently intimidated him by her grace, and still more by her inexperience.
"It can be—generally," he admitted; "and especially so if . . . as I gather is the case . . . your husband is equally anxious. . . ."
"Oh, quite!" she exclaimed, suddenly humiliated by having to admit it.
"Well, then—may I suggest that, to bring matters to a point, the best way would be for you to write to him?"
She recoiled slightly. It had never occurred to her that the lawyers would not "manage it" without her intervention.
"Write to him . . . but what about?"
"Well, expressing your wish . . . to recover your freedom. . . . The rest, I assume," said the young lawyer, "may be left to Mr. Lansing."
She did not know exactly what he meant, and was too much perturbed by the idea of having to communicate with Nick to follow any other train of thought. How could she write such a letter? And yet how could she confess to the lawyer that she had not the courage to do so? He would, of course, tell her to go home and be reconciled. She hesitated perplexedly.
"Wouldn't it be better," she suggested, "if the letter were to come from—from your office?"
He considered this politely. "On the whole: no. If, as I take it, an amicable arrangement is necessary—to secure the requisite evidence—then
