had vanished from the window-panes, all
had gone except one, a woman who sat patiently,
her eyes upon the floor, and her hands folded in
her lap, until the footsteps of the last of the others
to depart had ceased to sound upon the pavement
below. Then, with a wordless exclamation, she
sprang to her feet, pulled the window-shade carefully
down to the sill, and, when she had done
that, struck a match on the heel of her shoe--a
soiled white canvas shoe, not a small one--and
applied the flame to a gas jet. The yellow light
flared up; and she began to pace the room haggardly.

The court-house bell rang nine, and as the
tremors following the last stroke pulsed themselves
into silence, she heard a footfall on the
stairs and immediately relapsed into a chair,
folding her hands again in her lap, her expression
composing itself to passivity, for the step was very
much lighter than Joe's.

A lady beautifully dressed in white dimity
appeared in the doorway. She hesitated at the threshold,
not, apparently, because of any timidity (her
expression being too thoughtfully assured for that),
but almost immediately she came in and seated
herself near the desk, acknowledging the other's
presence by a slight inclination of the head.

This grave courtesy caused a strong, deep flush