Yet when he faced her once more every thought vanished from her mind save the one which had sustained her through the extraordinary measures she had taken to secure herself this opportunity of presenting her lost cause to the judgment of the only man from whom she could expect aid.
But her impulse was stayed and her thoughts sent wandering again by the penetrating look he gave her before she let her veil fall again.
"How long have you been in Detroit?" he asked.
"Ever since—"
"And how old is Reuther?"
"Eighteen, but—"
"Twelve years ago, then." He paused and glanced about him before adding, "She was about the age of the child you brought to my house to-day."
"Yes, sir, very nearly."
His lips took a strange twist. There was self-contempt in it, and some other very peculiar and contradictory emotion. But when this semblance of a smile had passed, it was no longer Oliver's father she saw before her, but the county's judge. Even his tone partook of the change as he dryly remarked:
"What you have told me concerning your daughter and my son is very interesting. But it was not for the simple purpose of informing me that this untoward engagement was at an end that you came to Shelby. You have another purpose. What is it? I can remain with you just five minutes longer."