Laurence and Mary looked at one another gravely and sadly—both felt what this would mean to the Judge. When they were alone, Laurence went and took her into his arms.
"I'm sorry I was cross to you," he said softly. "I didn't mean to be rough."
Mary kissed his cheek.
"I know—of course you were terribly worried," was her forgiving response.
"This will be very hard for you, Mary, the Judge being ill—we must get some one to help."
"Well—we'll see.... You'll have a lot of extra work too, Laurence, and you're working so hard now—"
"Oh, I think I can manage," he said absently. "But the thing right now is to get somebody here to help you—he'll have to be watched at night now, and—I tell you, there's Nora. You remember the girl you saw at the office the other day, Nora Skehan, you know I told you I used to know her as a child. She's out of work again, and I'm sure she'd be glad to come. You might try her."
"Well, I'll see," said Mary again.
Laurence held her and looked at her appealingly.