This is a question of
evidence."
"Who's Bowker anyhow?" said Dempsey behind his hand to Quigg.
"Ridin' 'round in his carriage and chokin' off free speech?"
After some moments of thought the judge turned to the president of
the board, and said in a measured, deliberate voice:--
"This signature, in my opinion, is a proper one. No fraud is
charged, and under the testimony none was intended. The law gives
Mrs. Grogan the right to use any title she chooses in conducting
her business--her husband's name, or any other. The contract must
stand as it is."
Here the judge arose and entered his private office, shutting the
door behind him.
Tom had listened with eyes dilating, every nerve in her body at
highest tension. Her contempt for Rowan in his abuse of her; her
anger against Dempsey at his insults; her gratitude to Babcock as
he stood up to defend her; her fears for the outcome, as she
listened to the calm, judicial voice of the judge,--each producing
a different sensation of heat and cold,--were all forgotten in the
wild rush of joy that surged through her as the judge's words fell
upon her ear. She shed no tears, as other women might have done.
Every fibre of her being seemed to be turned to steel. She was
herself again--she, Tom Grogan!--firm on her own feet, with her
big arms ready to obey her, and her head as clear as a bell,
master of herself, master of her rights, master of everything
about her.
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