“You thought that because I gave up my own paper I might not wish to see the building used by another?”
“Something like that,” admitted Penny.
“I try not to think about the past,” said Mr. Judson quietly. “Long ago I made my decision, and now must abide by it. I realize that I never can publish the Press again. I’m broken, beaten!”
The old man spoke with such bitterness that Penny glanced quickly at him. There was an expression in his dark eyes which startled her.
“Surely one can’t be defeated as long as he’s willing to fight,” she ventured. “Why, if you chose to make a come-back, I’m certain you would succeed.”
Mr. Judson shook his head impatiently. “You don’t understand. I am through—finished. All I can hope to do is to hold fast to what little I have, and try to protect Pauletta.”
“Pauletta is your wife?” Penny inquired kindly.
“My daughter. If it weren’t for her—” Mr. Judson hesitated, then finished in a voice quite casual: “If it weren’t for her, I probably would end it all.”
Penny was shocked.
“Why, Mr. Judson!” she protested. “You can’t mean that!”