as she would sleep until late in the morning; for since she was not to be a witness at the trial, Elmen had not undertaken to break her of the veronal habit.
"Magnificent morning, m'dear," Dads congratulated Joan, drawing back her chair with courtly bow, after she had laid the breakfast tray upon the little table. "Eggs, Joan?" he asked, poising the serving spoon. He had the habit, upon such an occasion, of pretending that he had ordered their meal, that she knew nothing about it, as if some delightful genie of his spoon had spread the table at his nod.
"Please, Dads," she said, playing the pretense with him.
"Delicious coffee, m'dear; and eggs perfectly seasoned. Toast browned to a turn," he praised her, dropping their game for the instant, to reassume immediately afterwards his previous posture of detachment, chatting abstractly and brightly of large and impersonal affairs.
Joan Daisy did not listen as attentively as usual, for she wondered what Elmen wanted to-day, and she worried over the possibility that he had encountered some development unfavorable to Ket.
Her thoughts wandered, naturally, to Assistant State's Attorney Clarke and Dads, perceiving her preoccupation, opened his newspaper.
Upon the picture page, which confronted her, stood the likeness of Assistant State's Attorney Clarke and she leaned forward with a gasp, feeling sure that Mr. Clarke had made another accusation of Ket; but she saw, with relief, that the picture was printed in connection with an entirely different case which Mr. Clarke was prosecuting.
Dads glanced over the paper at her, and a few moments later he reversed the page and laid it casually aside
