, and prepared to go into the street again.
"She needed just such a flush to make her supreme Kathleen!" He stood,
looking out into the square, out into the green of the trees where the
birds twittered. "Faultless--faultless in form and feature. She was so
as a child, she is so as a woman." He lighted a cigarette, and blew away
little clouds of smoke. "I will do it. I will marry her. She will have
me: I saw it in her eye. Fairing doesn't matter. Her uncle will never
consent to that, and she doesn't care enough for him. She cares, but she
doesn't care enough.... I will do it."

He turned towards a cupboard into which he had put a certain bottle
before he went to the court-room two hours before. He put the key in the
lock, then stopped. "No, I think not!" he said. "What I say to her shall
not be said forensically. What a discovery I've made! I was dull,
blank, all iron and ice; the judge, the jury, the public, even Kathleen,
against me; and then that bottle in there--and I saw things like
crystal! I had a glow in my brain, I had a tingle in my fingers; and
I had success, and"--his face clouded--"He was as guilty as hell!"
he added, almost bitterly, as he put the key of the cupboard into his
pocket again.

There was a knock at the door, and a youth of about nineteen entered.

"Hello!" he said. "I say, sir, but that speech of yours struck us all
where we couldn't say no. Even Kathleen got in a glow over it. Perhaps
Captain Fairing didn't, for he's just left her in a huff, and she's
looking--you remember those lines in the school-book:

"'A red spot burned upon her cheek,
Streamed her rich tresses down--'"

He laughed gaily. "I've come to ask you up to tea," he added. "The
Unclekins is there. When I told him that Kathleen had sent Fairing away
with a flea in his ear, he nearly fell off his chair. He lent me twenty
dollars on the spot. Are you coming our way?" he continued, suddenly
trying to imitate Charley's manner. Charley nodded, and they left the
office together and moved away under a long avenue of maples to where,
in the shade of a high hill, was the house of the uncle of Kathleen
Wantage, with whom she and her brother Billy lived. They walked in
silence for some time, and at last Billy said, 'a propos' of nothing:

"Fairing hasn't a red cent."

"You have a perambulating mind, Billy," said Charley, and bowed to a
young clergyman approaching them from the opposite direction.

"What does that