Mechanically she gave the order to the chauffeur but made no reply. He wondered what was going through her mind. Her silence seemed to indicate that his great dream had been shattered before it had been well launched. She had broken at the first pressure. He might have expected as much. Environment and training could not be so quickly counteracted. But none the less it was bitterly disappointing. He dreaded the word he would have to give to Bassett.
"Good night, Miss Wynrod," he said quietly as the car stopped and he got out. "I hope you found the evening not unprofitable."
"Mr. Good," said Judith slowly, looking at him steadily, "I want everybody who reads The Dispatch to-morrow to read—about that girl and her broken arm. Do you understand?"
His eyes widened. "And you know the consequences?" he whispered huskily.
"I think you have made them quite clear."
"You have friends among the department store owners, Miss Wynrod."
Judith smiled, but it was a grim smile. "I think I can venture where Mrs. Dodson has ventured," she said. Good seized her hand and his voice trembled.
"I was afraid—for a moment, but—you're a wonder! Good night." His emotion communicated itself to her and she did not venture to say anything in reply. She merely shook his hand firmly and sank back in the cushions. He turned and sped for the office.
"Bassett," he said, with simulated indifference a minute later, "let's see that stuff you've got on the girls."
"You mean," cried Bassett, "you're going to run it?"