'Let's approach
the facts. It's a breach of promise case.'
The unhappy artist was so unprepared for this view of his position that
he could scarce suppress a cry.
'Dear me,' said Gideon, 'they are apt to be very troublesome. Tell me
everything about it,' he added kindly; 'if you require my assistance,
conceal nothing.'
'You tell him,' said Michael, feeling, apparently, that he had done his
share. 'My friend will tell you all about it,' he added to Gideon, with
a yawn. 'Excuse my closing my eyes a moment; I've been sitting up with a
sick friend.'
Pitman gazed blankly about the room; rage and despair seethed in his
innocent spirit; thoughts of flight, thoughts even of suicide, came and
went before him; and still the barrister patiently waited, and still the
artist groped in vain for any form of words, however insignificant.
'It's a breach of promise case,' he said at last, in a low voice. 'I--I
am threatened with a breach of promise case.' Here, in desperate quest
of inspiration, he made a clutch at his beard; his fingers closed upon
the unfamiliar smoothness of a shaven chin; and with that, hope and
courage (if such expressions could ever have been appropriate in the
case of Pitman) conjointly fled.
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