at these strange men who will be called upon to decide
finally--will decide in my favor? They may mean to do what is right, but
do they know? It's the uncertainty that makes my position here so
intolerable--the dreadful uncertainty. If I thought that when my case
did come up I would walk out of court a free woman, I'd try and bear
this temporary restraint--but it's the horrible uncertainty--the
suspense--the anxiety that's gnawing at me--the secret dread that
constant contact with these people may make me one of them----"

"Don't say that," he interrupted.

"But it's true," she insisted. "That's why I must go away from here at
once!"

"Yes, but how--how?" he demanded.

"I don't know."

There was a deep silence. Neither spoke. Helpless, crushed by the law's
heavy hand, with hardly a ray of hope ahead, both sat stunned by the
calamity which had overtaken them. All at once their reverie was
disturbed by the sound of approaching footsteps. The big door opened and
Collins appeared. Addressing the lawyer, the old waiter said:

"There's a gentleman in the visitors' room--a Mr. Chase, sir. He's come
up from New York specially to see you, sir. When I told him you were
talking with the young lady--he--he made me promise him to bring him to
see her, too. He has no permit, but I've waited on him scores of times
at Del's, and he was always so liberal, that I couldn't refuse him.
Shall I bring him here, sir? And would you mind taking the
responsibility--if any question is raised?"

Paula rose, a flush of pleasure reddening her pale cheeks.

"Oh, please, Mr. Ricaby, I do so want to see him," she cried.

"I had better see him alone, Paula," objected the lawyer.

"But I want to see him," she insisted.

Mr. Ricaby nodded to Collins.

"Very well; tell him to come in."

The old man disappeared, and the attorney turned to his client. There
was a tone of reproach in his voice as he said:

"How glad you are to see this man, Paula!"

"Yes; I--I----" she stammered.

"You don't stop to think," rejoined her companion bitterly, "that his
family is the cause of your present predicament. You might say it is his
fault."

"His mother's fault, perhaps, but not his," corrected Paula quickly.
"You don't like him--you never liked him. Yet he is my friend--the one
friend I feel I can depend upon besides yourself. Won't you try and like
him for my sake?"

The lawyer shook his head. Doggedly he replied:

"If I don't like him that is