"But," he said, "this is the time to talk to you, the time I've been waiting for." Then as he saw her little questioning glance, "It's been on my mind to talk to you about Terence O'Brien. The trial comes off next week. I have got to tell you, Miss Bogart, that his chances are very slim. But let's not talk about that. What I really want is," said Shipman slowly, his eyes fixed steadily on hers, "what I really want is to have you tell me all about this mystery man of yours. Tell me," he begged, "all about Colter!" CHAPTER XVI SOPHISTICATION Telling Shipman "all about Colter" was, Sard found, not so easy. To eyes fixed upon hers with inscrutable powers of judgment, it was difficult to find words for the story. Yet, as the girl, her forehead slightly knotted, described the half-bent figure of the vagabond, surrounded by a curious little ring of village loafers, half prodded, half jeered into mumbled answers to questions as to what he was doing there, Shipman responded easily to the passion for decency and justice that had swept over her who had driven her car close up to the group. The picture of Sard dominating the half respectful, half resentful loafers, getting them to lift the dazed man into the car, was vivid. Shipman could see the calm young ascendency, the smiling way of giving directions, ignoring comments. The lawyer could visualize the whole thing, country smirks and all, as she related how she and Lowden had driven Colter to the little boarding-house, arranged for a room and the attendance of a physician and finally left her own visiting card and address and the sentence scribbled, "Come to this address when you are able to work." There was something so divine in this unconscious recital of pure humanity that the man, sitting there, had no droll look of question, nor raised eyebrow of inexpediency. The fresh eyes of the girl sought his for comment. "I don't approve," he said slowly, "but I admire." "But why don't you approve?" Shipman looked into the young eyes, wondering at their brown brook-like centers, slightly tremulous with tiny shifting lights of gold. As the girl laughed, they deepened into a curious maternal gleam, a hint of motherliness. Fascinated by the clear purity of her, realizing how little she could grasp of the hundred cheap misinterpretations of her acts, he kept silent. "Wouldn't you have 'approved' if you had been in Colter's place?" The lawyer straightened. After all, he was years older than she, even winged victories could come to grief; there were draggled wings and things that could not be victories. He saw the saucy inference and became somber, so somber that he had no answer to match his mood. Sard chose to be glibly interrogative. "You must have seen that he is not a common man?" determinedly.