"But The Dispatch isn't partisan," he said with a smile. "It never takes sides."
"Well, it will this time," she declared truculently.
He laughed. "You're still a woman, Judith." Then his expression changed, and his voice was tender. "I guess that's all you ever will be—to me."
The wind had shifted, making their refuge no longer comfortable, and Judith suddenly became conscious of the hour.
"Goodness—I've only ten minutes to get to Mrs. Dodson's. Coming that way?"
He nodded, and fell in beside her. They walked all the way in silence. When they reached the magnificent building in which Mrs. Dodson slept, but which seldom saw her when awake, Judith held out her hand.
"You haven't been near me for ages. Won't you come—occasionally—as you used to?"
"Do you really want me to?" His eyes seemed extraordinarily bright as he put the question.
"Of course."
"Then I will." He kept his gaze on her for a moment. With a wave of his hand he turned sharply on his heel, and was on his way as if time were precious.