But we smirk a little, I’m afraid, habitually when we talk to you. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. Everett’s gaze dropped to the papers in his hand. Passing at a glance over the whole of the intervening period; leaving in the words of the poet, —The growth untried Of that wide gap— we shall resume our narrative at the beginning of June, 1715. “Do not force me to take you seriously,” she continued. .
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