"Hell!" exclaimed Porshinger, "I don't want to come here again, if I concluded _not_ to go to a hearing.--Well, waive the hearing. We can give the Lorraines all they want in court--and something more." They entered the rear office where the magistrate was awaiting them. Porshinger was introduced, he waived the hearing; the bail was quickly arranged--one thousand dollars for appearance at the next term of court; Dalton and he signed it; and they went out. "A lawyer isn't supposed to go bail, but I fixed it up with the squire," Dalton remarked. "It's a mere form in your case--and I thought it well not to mention the matter to anyone. Moreover, I hadn't time to get another bondsman. I knew you didn't care to be kept waiting." Porshinger nodded. "Have the Lorraines become reconciled?" Dalton inquired. "Lorraine has become reconciled, the ninny--but Mrs. Lorraine hasn't, I hear. Problem, isn't it?" "Social problem!" laughed the lawyer.--"The unforgiving offender." Porshinger smiled. "It may be that way--I can't quite comprehend it, however. Why should Lorraine prosecute me if his wife's not reconciled to him?--and she plainly isn't, or wasn't last evening." "Which nevertheless is not material to the issue," Dalton replied. "It is: did you commit an assault and battery on Mrs. Lorraine last night?" "I kissed her in the Croyden conservatory," said Porshinger bluntly. "Hum--did she know it--I mean, was the kissing with her consent?" "Sure it was," he lied. "But she told?" "No--we were overseen by Dolittle--and he told." "Most unfortunate!" smiled Dalton. "It's perfectly plain now. To defend herself, Mrs. Lorraine tells Lorraine that you kissed her by force--and Lorraine rushes off and prosecutes you. It's a pretty mess. Everybody knows it, and everybody will be talking, and everyone concerned will be more or less smudged. I'm sorry for you, Porshinger." "Why sorry?" Porshinger demanded. "Since when has it become a crime to kiss a pretty woman?" "It hasn't. Your crime wasn't in kissing her but in kissing her so bunglingly as to be overseen. Society never quite forgives one, particularly a new-comer, that sort of clumsiness. It is always remembered against him." "Not if he can buy forgetfulness," said Porshinger easily. Dalton's glance flashed an instant over the other's face. "Perhaps--it's sometimes done, though not often. You may be an exception, Porshinger. I trust so." "You can do anything if you're willing to pay for it--and keep out of jail," was the complacent answer. "I'll supply the money; it will be up to you to keep me out of jail--understand?" XX THE TURN OF THINGS For a while after Porshinger and the constable had departed, Lorraine sat thinking. Those last words of Porshinger's, which he had seemed to laugh to scorn, none the less bred suspicion. "_You might ask what she and Pendleton were doing on the Criss-Cross piazza, one night about five weeks ago._"