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Rh an old school-pal’s intuition, watching for a blow-up. But Nina didn’t blow up, that is, not visibly: but that famous rigid will was boiling, full tilt; boiling up to a point for landing, “tooth and claw” on our pompous Councilman’s son, if things didn’t turn out satisfactorily.

Virginia didn’t occupy that stand long; it was only a half-sobbing account of a night at a dancing pavilion; and with a sob or two from a woman or girl in that vast crowd. All Virginia said was:—

“Norman Antor said I was a cry-baby if I wouldn’t drink with him. But I said, ‘All right; I am a cry-baby!cry-baby!’ [sic] And I always will turn ‘cry-baby’ if anybody insists that I drink that stuff.” (Just a short lull, a valiant fight for control, and)—“But I had to drink!! Norman was tipping my chair back and John Allison was forcing that glass into my mouth! I got so sick I couldn’t stand up, and didn’t know a thing until I found I was on a couch in my own parlor.”

A court official said, kindly:—

“That will do, Miss Adams.”

During this, Nina was glaring at Norman; but Virginia’s bringing Allison into it, also, was too much. But Wilkins, watching narrowly, said, snappingly:—