The judge cleared his throat.
"Quite right, my dear; quite right."
"Of course she is," said Mrs. Walbrough.
Clancy hid her mirth. It is a wonderful thing to realize that in the eyes of certain people we may do no wrong, that, whatever we do, even though these certain people have advised against it, becomes suddenly the only correct, the only possible course. And to think that she had known the Walbroughs only a few days!
Fate had been brutal to her these past seven days; but Fate had also been kindly.
"But you'll continue to make this your home—for the present, at least," said the judge. "Until this affair is closed."
To have refused would have been an unkindness. They wanted her. Clancy was one of those persons who would always be wanted.
The judge, as she was leaving, wrote on a card his private-office telephone-number.
"If you got the listed one, you might have difficulty in speaking with me. But this wire ends on my desk. I answer it myself."
Clancy thanked him. Mrs. Walbrough kissed her, and the judge assumed a forlorn, abused expression. So Clancy kissed him also.