And perhaps you remember that she
asked to speak to you before they took her to prison."
The heavy-jowled man gave a start.
"Oh, you begin to remember. Yes! There was a girl who swore she
was innocent--yes, she swore that she was innocent. And she
would have got off--only, you asked the judge to make an example
of her."
The man to whom she spoke had gone gray a little. He began to
understand, for he was not lacking in intelligence. Somehow, it
was borne in on him that this woman had a grievance beyond the
usual run of injuries.
"You are that girl?" he said. It was not a question, rather an
affirmation.
Mary spoke with the dignity of long suffering--more than that,
with the confident dignity of a vengeance long delayed, now at
last achieved. Her words were simple enough, but they touched to
the heart of the man accused by them.
"I am that girl."
There was a little interval of silence. Then, Mary spoke again,
remorselessly.
"You took away my good name. You smashed my life. You put me
behind the bars.
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