"Anything to be gained. Do you only tell a man a thing when there is something to be gained by it?" The Judge looked at the clock and then at his watch. "He ought to be here pretty soon. I want everybody to keep away from me. I want to see him first alone—in here." "But what’s all this mystery about? I’ll be hanged if you haven’t put my light under a bushel." "No, William, it is my light that has been under a bushel." "Everything may be all right, John, but I don’t understand it. There was something I wanted to say. Yes. In case I forget it, tell him the date was a mistake." "You won’t forget it, William. You never forget a mistaken date." "There you go again. Can’t a man make a request?" "I believe a man can, William." "You don’t believe anything of the sort, and you know it. But I won’t be left in the dark. I refuse to stumble in ignorance." He started toward the door. "What are you going to do?" "I am going to get the morning paper and settle that date." "All right," said the Judge, as William went out. "And tell them out there that I must see him here alone. Don’t forget that." He walked up and down the room and then stood at the door. "Do you see anything of him yet?" he called to his wife. "Not yet. It isn’t time. But here’s a cab. It’s going to stop—no, it’s gone on." "Let me get there," said the Judge, as if the others were responsible for the fact that the cab had not halted and put Howard down at the door. A moment after he went out Bradley and Agnes entered the room. "They are gone to watch for him. Shall we go, too?" the girl asked, looking at him with a mischievous quiz in her eyes. "No, let us stop here a moment. Strange, isn’t it, his going away and coming back so soon?" They sat on a sofa, looking at each other as if new interests were constantly springing up. "We have talked all over the house," she said. "I feel as if I have been on an excursion. Yes, it is strange. Don’t you think they have quarreled?" "Perhaps—but it will bring them closer together." "Yes," she said, "but I wouldn’t like to quarrel just to be brought closer together. I wonder why Mr. Bodney went away, too." "And you ask?" "Yes, didn’t you hear me? I heard him muttering as he went out. And I understood him to say that he wasn’t coming back any more." "I thought you knew why he went." "Thought I did? How was I to know?" "I could not help but think—" "What did you think?" she broke in. "That he had asked you to be his wife and—" "Oh, he never thought of such a thing." "And if he should?" "I’d tell him no, of course." "You may have to say yes sometime, Agnes." She looked down. "I won’t have to—but I may." "Agnes, do you know what love is?" "What a question. Of course I do." "What is it?" "Oh, it’s er—er—don’t you know what it is?" "Yes, Agnes, it is a glorious defeat of the heart." "Oh, I don’t think so. It’s more a victory than a defeat."