Once again all gazes fastened onto Thea, including the sideways flash of sympathy from a waiter removing her plate. “If you prefer honesty,” she returned, picking her way through a mine shaft of volatile responses, “I’d have to say I agree with Mrs. Gorman about God’s view of gambling. I can’t quote a precise verse of scripture. On the other hand, I do recall a verse where Jesus instructs His disciples to ‘Judge not, that ye not be judged.’” “Told you she was one of those reformers.” “Shh!” someone hissed, then added, “Let her be. Noose is already around her neck….” “Jesus ate with sinners, didn’t He?” A greyhound-thin woman sitting opposite Thea leaned over the table. “You think you’re being Jesus, Miss Pickford, surrounded by so many evil people? Got to warn us about our wicked ways?” “That’s enough!” Edgar Fane half rose. “Miss Pickford is my guest.” Thea shivered a little at the possessive tone but managed a reassuring smile. “It’s all right, Mr.
