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 it'll be different when he gets out. I mean, he'll work, then; he'll do big things, I know he will."

"How do you know it?"

"I can make him want to work, Dads!"

"How can you?"

"I can," she cried, clutching the covers and gathering them close about her throat.

Dads leaned over and patted her cheek, softly. "Don't dream you can by giving him yourself."

"I can!" she cried again, and he arose, looking down at her. For a moment he debated whether to argue more; then she saw him draw suddenly aloof. He opened wide her window, arranging it with care precisely as he had found it, and he strode into the bedroom without another word.

Joan Daisy lay with the bed covers clutched about her and she closed her eyes as she tried to reassemble the elements of her old dream of Ket and of the C Major concerto, of his name in stone beside Mozart's and of herself; but the vision, which Dads had presented, replaced it, and she quivered as she imagined Ket seizing her, as he would have on that night he struck his head on the door, only more grossly for his three months in jail.

Fear of the gallows filled her, and against it she repeated phrases taught her by Elmen to confuse Assistant State's Attorney Clarke, who would ask for Ket's life in the morning; so she marshaled herself to the trial.

Calvin attempted to convince himself, while he prepared to start for the court to open the trial, that he was in complete control of his emotions and that the sight of the Royle girl could not again affect him. His nervousness he deemed only natural upon a morning when he was to represent the State in a capital case.

The day, like the night, was clear and cold, and Calvin