"Really! You wicked fellow! I wasn't aware you had so many sins to answer for. But I know!"
And then, in flash after flash, each sparkling like a diamond, came pictures of his predecessors. The solemn judge; the jesting judge; the judge who suspected all men of lying; the judge who believed everybody told the truth; the sour, dour, swearing and hanging judge, who served Justice as if she had been a Juggernaut, and the gay Judge who bought and sold her as he did his mistresses.
"What a procession! And the question was, which kind were you going to belong to—eh?"
Again he laughed; they both laughed; and the car flew on. Another serious moment came. He mentioned the Book of Oaths, saying that while turning over its leaves with their faded ink he had been seized with a sudden fear of writing his name, whereupon Fenella, with a mischievous look of gravity, cried again,
"I know. You thought you were signing your death-warrant."
Yet another serious moment came when she asked him if he had not been proud of the send-off his countrymen had given him at the Castle gate. He replied that he would have been so but for the wretched thought that if anything happened to him their love would as suddenly turn to hate, and they would howl as loudly as they had cheered.
"But what nonsense!" cried Fenella. "Love—what I call love—is not like that. It never dies and never changes."
"Never?"
"Never! If I loved anybody and anything happened, I should fight the world for him."
"Even if he were in the wrong?"