"

"Fired?"

"They're going to take on one more man, and pay him real money."

"But you've got the Green River Jottings to do for the Wells _Clarion_."

"And I may get two dollars a month out of it."

"Did you see Judge Saxon again?"

"Last week."

"Why didn't you tell me what he said?"

"I told you what he would say."

"Oh, Neil!"

"The Judge hates to say no, that's why he took time to think it over.
He'd be a bigger man if he didn't hate to say no. He was right to say no
to me."

"Then I wouldn't admit it."

"What's it worth to read law in a country law office? The time for
that's past. He's right. And suppose he took me on, what would it do for
me? Look at Charlie. Doing hack work and dirty work to pay the rent of a
place to drink himself to death in. He's got brains enough. He knows law
enough. He's slaved and starved and got ready for his chance, and his
chance don't come. Why? Because he's Charlie Brady. Well I'm Neil
Donovan. I'm Irish, too, what they called me the first time I saw you--a
paddy."

"That's not the Colonel's fault."

"Who do you think gets the _Record_ job?"

Judith shook her blond head, disdaining to answer, a gathering storm in
her eyes.

"Chet Gaynor--Mr. J. Chester Gaynor. Lil Burr's brother. Her prize
brother, the one that's been fired from three prep schools. Everard got
him a scholarship at the last one."

"Why not? He ought to help his friends. He's a kind man and lots of fun.
It's not his fault if you don't get on. It's your own fault. You don't
have to work in a fish market if you don't want to, or sit there and
sneer at a man who doesn't care what you think of him. Abraham Lincoln
split rails----"

Judith stopped, amazed. Quite abruptly Neil had ceased to sit on the
steps and sneer. He was on his feet, hands clenched, thin body tense and
dangerous, face dead white and eyes blazing, as Judith had never seen
him before, or only once before, too angry for words, but not needing
them.

"Neil, do you really hate him? Hate him like that? I never thought you
meant it. But why--what has he done?"

"Care what I think? If I was any one else--your fool of a Willard--any
one in this town but me, I'd make him care."

"He's done nothing wrong. Neil, don't. Your eyes look all queer. You're
frightening me."

"No, he's done nothing wrong, nothing you could get him for. He's too
careful. He plays favourites. He fools women. He locks the door to every
chance to get on in thi