"Perhaps not. But I seem to remember something about there being more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine just men—in heaven, of course, not on earth."
"Repents, yes—"
"Well, Barclay repents all right.... But the good people of this town don't want to give him any time to repent, you see. They're in a great hurry to send him, with all his imperfections on his head, to—well, I suppose they think he'd go straight to hell. That's why I've got to go right back."
He got up, went round to Mary and bent to kiss her.
"I'm sorry you don't like my doing this, but I've got to do it," he said gently.
She did not respond, but sat looking straight before her. He started away, then came back.
"Mary—kiss me good-bye."
Something in his tone pierced through her frozen resentment. She met his look of anxious love, a sorrowful troubled look—the kiss was given. He hurried out.
The Judge hated to be disturbed at his meals, he was making a very bad dinner. He said pettishly:
"I've got to go right away too—I'll take some pie, please.... I wish people wouldn't get up a fuss at dinner-time."