kly. "Printing it prematurely might ruin my case."

"Very well. And as for what I have said about you, I take back
everything--except----" He paused; she saw disapprobation in his eyes.
"Except the plain truth I told you that being a lawyer is no work for
a woman."

"You are very dogmatic!" said she hotly.

"I am very right," he returned. "Excuse my saying it, but you appear
to have too many good qualities as a woman to spoil it all by going
out of your sphere and trying----"

"Why--why----" She stood gasping. "Do you know what your uncle told me
about you?"

"Old Hosie?" He shrugged his shoulders. "Hosie's an old fool!"

"He said that the trouble with you was that you had not been thrashed
enough as a boy. And he was right, too!"

She turned quickly to the door, but he stepped before her.

"Don't get mad because of a little truth. Remember, I want to help
you."

"I think," said she, "that we're better suited to fight each other
than to help each other. I'm not so sure I want your help."

"I'm not so sure you can avoid taking it," he retorted. "This isn't
your father's case alone. It's the city's case, too, and I've got a
right to mix in. Now do you want me?"

She looked at him a moment.

"I'll think it over. For the present, good afternoon."

He hesitated, then held out his hand. She hesitated, then took it.
After which, he opened the door for her and bowed her out.

CHAPTER IX

THE PRICE OF A MAN

When, half an hour before, Katherine walked with bowed head out of
Harrison Blake's office, Blake gazed fixedly after her for a moment,
and his face, now that he was private, deepened its sickly, ashen hue.
Then he strode feverishly up and down the room, lips twitching
nervously, hands clinching and unclinching. Then he unlocked a cabinet
against the wall, poured out a drink from a squat, black bottle,
gulped it down, and returned the bottle, forgetting to close the
cabinet. After which he dropped into his chair, gripped his face in
his two hands, and sat at his desk breathing deeply, but otherwise
without motion.

Presently his door opened.

"Mr. Brown is here to see you," announced a voice.

He slowly raised his head, and stared an instant at his stenographer
in dumfounded silence.

"Mr. Brown!" he repeated.

"Yes," said the young woman.

He continued to stare at her in sickly stupefaction.

"Shall I tell him you'll see him later?"

"Show him in," said Blake. "But, no--wait till I r