"How does she know what everybody thought?" commented the Judge to himself. He tapped the porch nervously with his cane, sniffed his heliotrope and said irrelevantly:
"Ah me, what a beautiful night! What a beautiful night!"
The implied rebuff provoked her. Irritation winged a venomous little shaft:
"At least no woman has ever held you responsible for her unhappiness."
"You are quite right, madam," he replied, "the only irreproachable husband in this world is the man who has no wife."
"By the way," she continued, "in all these years you have not told me why you never married. Come now, confess!"
How well she knew! How often as she had driven through the streets and observed him sitting alone in the door of his office or walking aimlessly about, she had leaned back and laughed.
"Madam," he replied, for he did not like the question, "neither have you ever told me why you married three times. Come now, confess."
It would soon be time for him to leave; and still she had not gained her point.
"Rowan was here this afternoon," she remarked carelessly. He was sitting so that the light fell sidewise on his face. She noted how alert it became, but he said nothing.