Then had come bed. And now, having disposed of a breakfast that would have met the approval of any resident of Zenith, she announced that she was going out.
"Better stay indoors," said the judge. "Just as well, you know, if people don't see you too much."
Clancy laughed.
"I've been outdoors right along," she said. "It's rather a late date to hide indoors. Besides, I mustn't lose my job."
"Job!" The judge snorted disgustedly.
"Why, you mustn't think of work until this matter is all settled!" cried Mrs. Walbrough.
Clancy smiled.
"I must live, you know."
"'Live! Live!'" The judge lifted an empty coffee-cup to his mouth, then set it down with a crash that should have broken it. "Don't be absurd, my dear girl. Mrs. Walbrough and I——"
"Please!" begged Clancy. She fought against tears of gratitude—of affection. "You've been so dear, so—so—'angelic' is the only word that fits it. Both of you. I'll adore you—always. But you mustn't—I didn't come to New York to let other people, no matter how sweet and generous they might be, do for me."