She looked with much interest at Howard's stepmother. She had heard so much about her that it seemed to her that she knew her personally. As Alicia swept proudly by, the eyes of the two women met, and Annie was surprised to see in the banker's wife's face, instead of the cold, haughty stare she expected, a wistful, longing look, as if she would like to stop and talk with her, but dare not. In another instant she was gone, and, obeying a clerk, who beckoned her to follow him, she entered Judge Brewster's office. The lawyer looked up as she came in, but did not move from his seat. Gruffly he said: "How long do you intend to keep up this system of--warfare? How long are you going to continue forcing your way into this office?" "I didn't force my way in," she said quietly. "I didn't expect to come in. The clerk said you wanted to see me." The lawyer frowned and scrutinized her closely. After a pause, he said: "I want to tell you for the fiftieth time I can do nothing for you." "Fifty?" she echoed. "Fifty did you say? Really, it doesn't seem that much." Judge Brewster looked at her quickly to see if she was laughing at him. Almost peevishly, he said: "For the last time, I repeat I can do nothing for you." [Illustration: "I CAN DO NOTHING FOR YOU," SAID THE JUDGE.] "Not the last time, judge," she replied, shaking her head. "I shall come again to-morrow." The lawyer swung around in his chair with indignation. "You will----?" Annie nodded. "Yes, sir," she said quietly. "You're determined to force your way in here?" exclaimed the lawyer. "Yes, sir." The judge banged the desk with his fist. "But I won't allow it! I have something to say, you know! I can't permit this to go on. I represent my client, Mr. Howard Jeffries, Sr., and he won't consent to my taking up your husband's case." There was a shade of sarcasm in Annie's voice as she asked calmly: "Can't you do it without his consent?" The lawyer looked at her grimly. "I can," he blurted out, "but--I won't." Her eyes flashed as she replied quickly. "Well, you ought to----" The lawyer looked up in amazement. "What do you mean?" he demanded. "It's your duty to do it," she said quietly. "Your duty to his son, to me, and to Mr. Jeffries himself. Why, he's so eaten up with his family pride and false principles that he can't see the difference between right and wrong. You're his lawyer. It's your duty to put him right. It's downright wicked of you to refuse--you're hurting him. Why, when I was hunting around for a lawyer one of them actually refused to take up the case because he said old Brewster must think Howard was guilty or he'd have taken it up himself. You and his father are putting the whole world against him, and you know it." The judge was staggered. No one in his recollection had ever dared to speak to him like that. He was so astonished that he forgot to resent it, and he hid his confusion by taking out his handkerchief and mopping his forehead.