Thorne," he said, "when did you get out?"

It was the first perfectly natural, spontaneous reference to her
imprisonment that she had heard since she left prison. It did away with
all constraint and awkwardness, to be taken as a matter of course.
Criminals were no novelty in the judge's life. He sat down, waved her
into a chair opposite, put his elbows on the arms of his swinging chair
and locked his knuckles together.

"I'm very glad to see you--very glad indeed," he said.

But he wasn't at all surprised that she had come. It was not unusual,
evidently, for the first visit of a released convict to be paid to the
judge. He began to question her rather as if she were a child home for
the holidays.

"And what did you learn? Baking? Now that's interesting, isn't it? And
sewing? Well, well!"

He treated her so simply that Lydia found herself speaking to him with
more freedom about the whole experience of prison than she had been able
to speak to anyone. The reason was, she thought, that she did not need
to explain to him that she was not a tragic exception, a special case.
To him she was just one of a long series of lawbreakers.

They talked for an hour. She noted that the judge still enjoyed talking,
still insisted on rounding out his sentences; but she felt now no
impatience. His reminiscences interested her. Before long she found
herself consulting him about a subject that had long preyed on her
mind--Alma Wooley. She wanted to do something for Alma Wooley, yet she
supposed the girl would utterly reject anything coming from the woman
who had----

The judge put his hand on her arm.

"Now don't you worry a mite about Alma," he said. "Alma married a nice
young fellow out of the district attorney's office--named Foster--and
now they have a baby, a nice little baby. I was saying to her father
only yesterday that Foster is a much better man for her----"

While the judge was launched on his speech to Mr. Wooley, Lydia's mind
went back to Foster--Foster waiting and watching for O'Bannon like a
puppy for its supper. Well, she could forgive him even his admiration
for that man since he had made Alma Wooley happy. A weight was lifted
from her conscience.

Finally, with some embarrassment, she told the judge the object of her
visit--a pardon for Evans. She was prepared to have him remind her, as
O'Bannon had once done, that it was a matter which had been in her own
hands, in that in this very room in which she was now s