"_Tss!_" hissed the judge in unspeakable scorn. He went back to his chair and sat down, still holding the other's eyes with an angry stare. "You know you haven't any doubt that you'll get her." "Yes, I have. Many. There was a time--but that's passed. She is distressingly interested in other things." "Any money?" asked the judge. "No." "Have you, then?" Dunham nodded. He saw a ripple of surprise pass over the sharp face opposite. "What sort of connections has she?" John smiled. "Well, some of them think very well of themselves." "H'm. That might be. Are they the sort that could be of any use to you?" "Why, yes. The most cocksure of them all can do a lot for me if he likes." Judge Trent shook his head. "Go slow, Boy. It's easier to get into that noose than out of it." "Why, you complained that I went too slow in the case of Edna." "Yes, yes, indeed. There you would have had the best possible chances." The judge sighed. "You've missed your life-opportunity; now be cautious." "You haven't seen Sylvia since she did up her hair, have you?" The digression was so sharp and unexpected, Judge Trent winked, and came slowly back from his dejection. "Hair?" he repeated, vaguely. "I shouldn't know whether she did up her hair or not. It's short, still, isn't it? How could she?" "She puts a tight elastic, or ribbon, or something, around it, right at the crown. It makes a lot of little waves and curls that tumble around--well, just right." Judge Trent blinked slowly toward the rather tense face. "She's going up to the farm next week," he said. "I know she is," replied Dunham. "So am I. She doesn't know it. I'm going to surprise her. I haven't asked if you could spare me. You'll have to." Judge Trent's mouth fell slightly open. Presently he swung his chair around to his desk and began mechanically to examine and separate some papers which he took from a rubber band. Certain ones he tore and threw them into the wastebasket, returned others to a pigeonhole, and all in a businesslike rush, as if to make up for the time he had been wasting. At last a strange look overspread his face. The blood rushed to it. Again he took off a rubber band and ran his eyes over the various papers. Then he scowled, and, snatching up the wastebasket, fished out the top scraps. He regarded them aghast. Presently a sound rang through that office which had never resounded in Dunham's time. Judge Trent laughed loud and long. "Boy, I'll have to confess it," he said, as John looked up in questioning amazement. "I've torn up that new deed we made out." He laughed again, and Dunham joined him in a spontaneous burst. "Who are _you_ in love with, Judge Trent?" he asked. "You, I guess," returned the lawyer, bluntly. He rose and came again to the younger man's side, and the excitement in his face showed now as gravity. "John," he said, "is it Sylvia?" Dunham rose. "Yes, it's Sylvia," he answered. Their hands met in a strenuous clasp.