little girls on the streets in danger of their lives on account of such men as you. I'm going to make an example of you. One hundred dollars or ten days in the work-house.
The judge smiled at Alice, and Alice began to cry.
The truck-driver stood before the bar. No, he couldn't pay the fine.
Alice turned quickly to Harold.
Have you a hundred dollars?
I don't . . . I'll see.
He looked in his pocket-book and to his great astonishment found nearly five hundred. Drains must have put it there while he was asleep.
Yes, I have.
Will you lend it to me?
I'll pay the man's fine.
No, this is my affair. If you will lend it to me, I will pay the fine. I can get the money.
Let me . . .
Please . . . Alice began to cry again. Harold was certain he had never seen any one so adorable, never imagined that any one so adorable could come into his life. He pressed the money into her little hand, and she rushed to the bar, almost breathless.
I'll pay his fine.
The judge glanced down the extensive length of his nose at her. He said nothing, but his face was more expressive than usual.
The clerk took the money.
