"Of course," said Katherine, her eyes still upon the sidewalk, "this
man lawyer would expect to be the chief counsel?"

"Being older, and more experienced----"

"And being a man," Katherine softly supplied.

"He of course would expect to have full charge--naturally," Bruce
concluded.

"Naturally," echoed Katherine.

"Of course you would agree to that?"

"I was just trying to think what a man would do," she said
meditatively, in the same soft tone. "But I suppose a man, after he
had taken a case when no one else would take it, when it was
hopeless--after he had spent months upon it, made himself unpopular by
representing an unpopular cause, and finally worked out a line of
defense that, when the evidence is gained, will not only clear his
client but astound the city--after he had triumph and reputation
almost within his grasp, I suppose a man would be quite willing to
step down and out and hand over the glory to a newcomer."

He looked at her sharply. But her face, or what he saw of it, showed
no dissembling.

"But you are not stating the matter fairly," he said. "You should
consider the fact that you are at the end of your rope!"

"Yes, I suppose I should consider that," she said slowly.

They were passing the Court House now. He tried to study her face, but
it continued bent upon the sidewalk, as if in thought. They reached
the jail, and she mounted the first step.

"Well, what do you say?" he asked.

She slowly raised her eyes and looked down on him guilelessly.

"You've been most thoughtful and kind--but if it's just the same to
you, I'd like to keep on with the case a little longer alone."

"What!" he ejaculated. He stared at her. "I don't know what to make of
you!" he cried in exasperation.

"Oh, yes you do," she assured him sweetly, "for you've been trying to
make very little of me."

"Eh! See here, I half believe you don't want my aid!" he blurted out.

Standing there above him, smiling down upon him, she could hardly
resist telling him the truth--that sooner would she allow her right
hand to be burnt off than to accept aid from a man who had flaunted
and jeered at her lawyership--that it was her changeless determination
not to tell him one single word about her plans--that it was her
purpose to go silently ahead and let her success, should she succeed,
be her reply to his unbelief. But she checked the impulse to fling the
truth in his face--and instead continued to smile inscrutably down