him; why then they would believe that for her he had killed Adele. And he had not killed Adele. That Joan Daisy knew.
So she faced the jury and told them, prettily and unfalteringly, the prepared story of Ket's chivalrous friendship for her and her hope and ambition for him. The latter part, she related surpassingly well, because it was true; and, when launched upon the telling, she became inspired and passed beyond the bounds of that which she had rehearsed with Max Elmen and indeed beyond anything which she ever had imparted to Max, for she told to the jury her dream of Ket, great and honorable and with his name beside Wagner's and Mozart's on the stone front of the Chicago Orchestra building.
Not once during this telling did she look at Mr. Elmen, for she dared not. But when it was over she turned and sat back, trembling, but only to see Max Elmen's little eyes and his large lips smiling with approving delight.
"Your honor," said Max to the judge with huge satisfaction, "it is now the usual hour for adjournment. I suggest adjournment, therefore, in order to enter afresh into the vital and delicate matter next to come before us."
