Elysium; he in the Slough of Despond."

"I thought he was in the bughouse," said the passenger who was nobody
in particular.

Judge Menefee stirred, a little impatiently. The men sat, drooping, in
grotesque attitudes. The wind had abated its violence; coming now in
fitful, virulent puffs. The fire had burned to a mass of red coals
which shed but a dim light within the room. The lady passenger in her
cosey nook looked to be but a formless dark bulk, crowned by a mass of
coiled, sleek hair and showing but a small space of snowy forehead
above her clinging boa.

Judge Menefee got stiffly to his feet.

"And now, Miss Garland," he announced, "we have concluded. It is for
you to award the prize to the one of us whose argument--especially, I
may say, in regard to his estimate of true womanhood--approaches
nearest to your own conception."

No answer came from the lady passenger. Judge Menefee bent over
solicitously. The passenger who was nobody in particular laughed low
and harshly. The lady was sleeping sweetly. The Judge essayed to take
her hand to awaken her. In doing so he touched a small, cold, round,
irregular something in her lap.

"She has eaten the apple," announced Judge Menefee, in awed tones, as
he held up the core for them to see.