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FIVE minutes later the judge had closed the door behind the young notary, and stood alone in the hall. He had shut the door sharply, with almost a bang, but now he stood -- with his hand still on the knob -- thinking. His first fury against his daughter was scarcely subsiding, it had gained force in those moments of mortification -- when he had to dismiss the young man whom he had brought to witness her signature -- and now it rose in a hot wave of anger against her and against Faunce. He suspected that Faunce had written to her, he was trying to drag the poor girl back against her will. And she -- Diane Herford, his own daughter -- had not the force of character to resist that craven!
The judge turned with a black brow and tramped back to the library door.