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CHAPTER IV
DOCTOR WEST’S LAWYER
Katherine’s refusal of Harrison Blake’s unforeseen proposal, during the summer she had graduated from Vassar, had, until the present hour, been the most painful experience of her life.
Ever since that far-away autumn of her fourteenth year when Blake had led an at-first forlorn crusade against “Blind Charlie” Peck and swept that apparently unconquerable autocrat and his corrupt machine from power, she had admired Blake as the ideal public man. He had seemed so fine, so big already, and loomed so large in promise – it was the fall following his proposal that he was elected lieutenant-governor – that it had been a humiliation to her that she, so insignificant, so unworthy, could not give him that intractable passion, love. But though he had gone very pale at her stammered answer, he had borne his disappointment like a gallant gentleman; and in the years since then he had acquitted himself to perfection in that most difficult of rôles, the lover who must be content to be mere friend.
Katherine still retained her girlish admiration of Mr. Blake. Despite his having been so conspicuous at the forefront of public affairs, no scandal had ever soiled his name. His rectitude, so said people whose memories ran back a generation, was due mainly to fine qualities inherited from his mother, for his father had been a good-natured, hearty, popular politician with no discoverable bias toward over-scrupulosity. In fact, twenty years ago there had been a great to-do touching the voting, through a plan of the elder Blake’s devising, of a gang of negroes half a dozen times down in a river-front ward. But his party had rushed loyally to his rescue, and had vindicated him by sending him to Congress; and his sudden death on the day after taking his seat had at the time abashed all accusation, and had suffused his memory with a romantic afterglow of sentiment.
Blake lived alone with his mother in a house adjoining the Wests’, and a few moments after Katherine had left her father she turned into the Blakes’ yard. The house stood far back in a spacious lawn, shady with broad maples and aspiring pines, and set here and there with shrubs and flower-beds and a fountain whose misty spray hung a golden aureole upon the sunlight. It was quite worthy of Westville’s most distinguished citizen – a big, roomy house of brick, its sterner lines all softened with cool ivy, and with a wide piazza crossing its entire front and embracing its two sides.
The hour was that at which Westville arose from its accustomed mid-day dinner – which was the reason Katherine was calling at Blake’s home instead of going downtown to his office. She was informed that he was in. Telling the maid she would await him in his library, where she knew he received all clients who called on business at his home, she ascended the well-remembered stairway and entered a large, light room with walls booked to the ceiling.
Despite her declaration to her father that that old love episode had been long forgotten by Mr. Blake, at this moment it was not forgotten by her. She could not subdue a fluttering agitation over the circumstance that she was about to appeal for succour to a man she had once refused.
She had but a moment to wait. Blake’s tall, straight figure entered and strode rapidly across the room, his right hand outstretched.
“What – you, Katherine! I’m so glad to see you!”
She had risen. “And I to see you, Mr. Blake.” For all he had once vowed himself her lover, she had never overcome her girlhood awe of him sufficiently to use the more familiar “Harrison.”
“I knew you were coming home, but I had not expected to see you so soon. Please sit down again.”
She resumed her soft leather-covered chair, and he took the swivel chair at his great flat-topped library desk. His manner was most cordial, but lurking beneath it Katherine sensed a certain constraint – due perhaps, to their old relationship – perhaps due to meeting a friend involved in a family disgrace.
Blake was close upon forty, with a dark, strong, handsome face, penetrating but pleasant eyes, and black hair slightly marked with gray. He was well dressed but not too well dressed, as became a public man whose following was largely of the country. His person gave an immediate impression of a polished but not over-polished gentleman – of a man who in acquiring a large grace of manner, has lost nothing of virility and bigness and purpose.
“It seems quite natural,” Katherine began, smiling, and trying to speak lightly, “that each time I come home it is to congratulate you upon some new honour.”
“New honour?” queried he.
“Oh, your name reaches even to New York! We hear that you are spoken of to succeed Senator Grayson when he retires next year.”
“Oh, that!” He smiled – still with some constraint. “I won’t try to make you believe that I’m indifferent about the matter. But I don’t need to tell you that there’s many a slip betwixt being ‘spoken of’ and actually being chosen.”
There was an instant of awkward silence. Then Katherine went straight to the business of her visit.
“Of course you know about father.”
He nodded. “And I do not need to say, Katherine, how very, very sorry I am.”
“I was certain of your sympathy. Things look black on the surface for him, but I want you to know that he is innocent.”
“I am relieved to be assured of that,” he said, hesitatingly. “For, frankly, as you say, things do look black.”
She leaned forward and spoke rapidly, her hands tightly clasped.
“I have come to see you, Mr. Blake, because you have always been our friend – my friend, and a kinder friend than a young girl had any right to expect – because I know you have the ability to bring out the truth no matter how dark the circumstantial evidence may seem. I have come, Mr. Blake, to ask you, to beg you, to be my father’s lawyer.”
He stared at her, and his face grew pale.
“To be your father’s lawyer?” he repeated.
“Yes, yes – to be my father’s lawyer.”
He turned in his chair and looked out to where the fountain was flinging its iridescent drapery to the wind. She gazed at his strong, clean-cut profile in breathless expectation.
“I again assure you he is innocent,” she urged pleadingly. “I know you can clear him.”
“You have evidence to prove his innocence?” asked Blake.
“That you can easily uncover.”
He slowly swung about. Though with all his powerful will he strove to control himself, he was profoundly agitated, and he spoke with a very great effort.
“You have put me in a most embarrassing situation, Katherine.”
She caught her breath.
“You mean?”
“I mean that I should like to help you, but – but – ”
“Yes? Yes?”
“But I cannot.”
“Cannot! You mean – you refuse his case?”
“It pains me, but I must.”
She grew as white as death.
“Oh!” she breathed. “Oh!” She gazed at him, lips wide, in utter dismay.
Suddenly she seized his arm. “But you have not yet thought it over – you have not considered,” she cried rapidly. “I cannot take no for your answer. I beg you, I implore you, to take the case.”
He seemed to be struggling between two desires. A slender, well-knit hand stretched out and clutched a ruler; his brow was moist; but he kept silent.
“Mr. Blake, I beg you, I implore you, to reconsider,” she feverishly pursued. “Do you not see what it will mean to my father? If you take the case, he is as good as cleared!”
His voice came forth low and husky. “It is because it is beyond my power to clear him that I refuse.”
“Beyond your power?”
“Listen, Katherine,” he answered. “I am glad you believe your father innocent. The faith you have is the faith a daughter ought to have. I do not want to hurt you, but I must tell you the truth – I do not share your faith.”
“You refuse, then, because you think him guilty?”
He inclined his head. “The evidence is conclusive. It is beyond my power, beyond the power of any lawyer, to clear him.”
This sudden failure of the aid she had so confidently counted as already hers, was a blow that for the moment completely stunned her. She sank back in her chair and her head dropped down into her hands.
Blake wiped his face with his handkerchief. After a moment, he went on in an agitated, persuasive voice:
“I do not want you to think, because I refuse, that I am any less your friend. If I took the case, and did my best, your father would be convicted just the same. I am going to open my heart to you, Katherine. I should like very much to be chosen for that senatorship. Naturally, I do not wish to do any useless thing that will impair my chances. Now for me, an aspirant for public favour, to champion against the aroused public the case of a man who has – forgive me the word – who has betrayed that public, and in the end to lose that case, as I most certainly should – it would be nothing less than political suicide. Your father would gain nothing. I would lose – perhaps everything. Don’t you see?”
“I follow your reasons,” she said brokenly into her hands, “I do not blame you – I accept your answer – but I still believe my father innocent.”
“And for that faith, as I told you, I admire and honour you.”
She slowly rose. He likewise stood up.
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
“I do not know,” she answered dully. “I was so confident of your aid, that I had thought of no alternative.”
“Your father has tried other lawyers?”
“Yes. They have all refused. You can guess their reason.”
He was silent for an instant.
“Why not take the case yourself?”
“I take the case!” cried Katherine, amazed.
“Yes. You are a lawyer.”
“But I have never handled a case in court! I am not even admitted to the bar of the state. And, besides, a woman lawyer in Westville – No, it’s quite out of the question.”
“I was only suggesting it, you know,” he said apologetically.
“Oh, I realized you did not mean it seriously.”
Her face grew ashen as her failure came to her afresh. She gazed at him with a final desperation.
“Then your answer – it is final?”
“I am sorry, but it is final,” said he.
Her head dropped.
“Thank you,” she said dully. “Good-by.” And she started away.
“Wait, Katherine.”
She paused, and he came to her side. His features were gray-hued and were twitching strangely; for an instant she had the wild impression that his old love for her still lived.
“I am sorry that – that the first time you asked aid of me – I should fail you. But but – ”
“I understand.”
“One word more.” But he let several moments pass before he spoke it, and he wet his lips continually. “Remember, I am still your friend. Though I cannot take the case, I shall be glad, in a private way, to advise you upon any matters you may care to lay before me.”
“You are very good.”
“Then you accept?”
“How can I refuse? Thank you.”
He accompanied her down the stairway and to the door. Heavy-hearted, she returned home. This was sad news to bring her father, whom but half an hour before she had so confidently cheered; and she knew not in what fresh direction to turn for aid.
She went straight up to her father’s room. With him she found a stranger, who had a vague, far-distant familiarity.
The two men rose.
“This is my daughter,” said Doctor West.
The stranger bowed slightly.
“I have heard of Miss West,” he said, and in his manner Katherine’s quick instinct read strong preconceived disapprobation.
“And, Katherine,” continued her father, “this is Mr. Bruce.”
She stopped short.
“Mr. Bruce of the Express?”
“Of the Express,” Bruce calmly repeated.
Her dejected figure grew suddenly tense, and her cheeks glowed with hot colour. She moved up before the editor and gazed with flashing eyes into his square-jawed face.
“So you are the man who wrote those brutal things about father?”
He bristled at her hostile tone and manner, and there was a quick snapping behind the heavy glasses.
“I am the man who wrote those true things about your father,” he said with cold emphasis.
“And after that you dare come into this house!”
“Pardon me, Miss West, but a newspaper man dares go wherever his business takes him.”
She was trembling all over.
“Then let me inform you that you have no business here. Neither my father nor myself has anything whatever to say to yellow journalists!”
“Katherine! Katherine!” interjected her father.
Bruce bowed, his face a dull red.
“I shall leave, Miss West, just as soon as Doctor West answers my last question. I called to see if he wished to make any statement, and I was asking him about his lawyer. He told me he had as yet secured none, but that you were applying to Mr. Blake.”
Doctor West stepped toward her eagerly.
“Yes, Katherine, what did he say? Will he take the case?”
She turned from Bruce, and as she looked into the white, worn face of her father, the fire of her anger went out.
“He said – he said – ”
“Yes – yes?”
She put her arms about him.
“Don’t you mind, father dear, what he said.”
Doctor West grew yet more pale.
“Then – he said – the same as the others?”
She held him tight.
“Dear daddy!”
“Then – he refused?”
“Yes – but don’t you mind it,” she tried to say bravely.
Without a sound, the old man’s head dropped upon his chest. He held to Katherine a moment; then he moved waveringly to an old haircloth sofa, sank down upon it and bowed his face into his hands.
Bruce broke the silence.
“I am to understand, then, that your father has no lawyer?”
Katherine wheeled from the bowed figure, and her anger leaped instantly to a white heat.
“And why has he no lawyer?” she cried. “Because of the inhuman things you wrote about him!”
“You forget, Miss West, that I am running a newspaper, and it is my business to print the news.”
“The news, yes; but not a malignant, ferocious distortion of the news! Look at my father there. Does it not fill your soul with shame to think of the black injustice you have done him?”
“Mere sentiment! Understand, I do not let conventional sentiment stand between me and my duty.”
“Your duty!” There was a world of scorn in her voice. “And, pray, what is your duty?”
“Part of it is to establish, and maintain, decent standards of public service in this town.”
“Don’t hide behind that hypocritical pretence! I’ve heard about you. I know the sort of man you are. You saw a safe chance for a yellow story for your yellow newspaper, a safe chance to gain prominence by yelping at the head of the pack. If he had been a rich man, if he had had a strong political party behind him, would you have dared assail him as you have? Never! Oh, it was brutal – infamous – cowardly!”
There was an angry fire behind the editor’s thick glasses, and his square chin thrust itself out. He took a step nearer.
“Listen to me!” he commanded in a slow, defiant voice. “Your opinion is to me a matter of complete indifference. I tell you that a man who betrays his city is a traitor, and that I would treat an old traitor exactly as I would treat a young traitor, I tell you that I take it as a sign of an awakening public conscience when reputable lawyers refuse to defend a man who has done what your father has done. And, finally, I predict that, try as you may, you will not be able to find a decent lawyer who will dare to take his case. And I glory in it, and consider it the result of my work!” He bowed to her. “And now, Miss West, I wish you good afternoon.”
She stood quivering, gasping, while he crossed to the door. As his hand fell upon the knob she sprang forward.
“Wait!” she cried. “Wait! He has a lawyer!”
He paused.
“Indeed! And whom?”
“One who is going to make you take back every cowardly word you have printed!”
“Who is it, Katherine?” It was her father who spoke.
She turned. Doctor West had raised his head, and in his eyes was an eager, hopeful light. She bent over him and slipped an arm about his shoulders.
“Father dear,” she quavered, “since we can get no one else, will you take me?”
“Take you?” he exclaimed.
“Because,” she quavered on, “whether you will or not, I’m going to stay in Westville and be your lawyer.”
CHAPTER V
KATHERINE PREPARES FOR BATTLE
For a long space after Bruce had gone Katherine sat quiveringly upon the old haircloth sofa beside her father, holding his hands tightly, caressingly. Her words tumbled hotly from her lips – words of love of him – of resentment of the injustice which he suffered – and, fiercest of all, of wrath against Editor Bruce, who had so ruthlessly, and for such selfish ends, incited the popular feeling against him. She would make such a fight as Westville had never seen! She would show those lawyers who had been reduced to cowards by Bruce’s demagogy! She would bring the town humiliated to her father’s feet!
But emotion has not only peaks, but plains, and dark valleys. As she cooled and her passion descended to a less exalted level, she began to see the difficulties of, and her unfitness for, the rôle she had so impulsively accepted. An uneasiness for the future crept upon her. As she had told Mr. Blake, she had never handled a case in court. True, she had been a member of the bar for two years, but her duties with the Municipal League had consisted almost entirely in working up evidence in cases of municipal corruption for the use of her legal superiors. An untried lawyer, and a woman lawyer at that – surely a weak reed for her father to lean upon!
But she had thrown down the gage of battle; she had to fight, since there was no other champion; and even in this hour of emotion, when tears were so plenteous and every word was accompanied by a caress, she began to plan the preliminaries of her struggle.
“I shall write to-night to the league for a leave of absence,” she said. “One of the things I must see to at once is to get admitted to the state bar. Do you know when your case is to come up?”
“It has been put over to the September term of court.”
“That gives me four months.”
She was silently thoughtful for a space. “I’ve got to work hard, hard! upon your case. As I see it now, I am inclined to agree with you that the situation has arisen from a misunderstanding – that the agent thought you expected a bribe, and that you thought the bribe a small donation to the hospital.”
“I’m certain that’s how it is,” said her father.
“Then the thing to do is to see Doctor Sherman, and if possible the agent, have them repeat their testimony and try to search out in it the clue to the mistake. And that I shall see to at once.”
Five minutes later Katherine left the house. After walking ten minutes through the quiet, maple-shaded back streets she reached the Wabash Avenue Church, whose rather ponderous pile of Bedford stone was the most ambitious and most frequented place of worship in Westville, and whose bulk was being added to by a lecture room now rising against its side.
Katherine went up a gravelled walk toward a cottage that stood beneath the church’s shadow. The house’s front was covered with a wide-spreading rose vine, a tapestry of rich green which June would gorgeously embroider with sprays of heart-red roses. The cottage looked what Katherine knew it was, a bower of lovers.
Her ring was answered by a fair, fragile young woman whose eyes were the colour of faith and loyalty. A faint colour crept into the young woman’s pale cheeks.
“Why – Katherine – why – why – I don’t know what you think of us, but – but – ” She could stammer out no more, but stood in the doorway in distressed uncertainty.
Katherine’s answer was to stretch out her arms. “Elsie!” Instantly the two old friends were in a close embrace.
“I haven’t slept, Katherine,” sobbed Mrs. Sherman, “for thinking of what you would think – ”
“I think that, whatever has happened, I love you just the same.”
“Thank you for saying it, Katherine.” Mrs. Sherman gazed at her in tearful gratitude. “I can’t tell you how we have suffered over this – this affair. Oh, if you only knew!”
It was instinctive with Katherine to soothe the pain of others, though suffering herself. “I am certain Doctor Sherman acted from the highest motives,” she assured the young wife. “So say no more about it.”
They had entered the little sitting-room, hung with soft white muslin curtains. “But at the same time, Elsie, I cannot believe my father guilty,” Katherine went on. “And though I honour your husband, why, even the noblest man can be mistaken. My hope of proving my father’s innocence is based on the belief that Doctor Sherman may somehow have made a mistake. At any rate, I’d like to talk over his evidence with him.”
“He’s trying to work on his sermon, though he’s too worn to think. I’ll bring him right in.”
She passed through a door into the study, and a moment later reëntered with Doctor Sherman. The present meeting would have been painful to an ordinary person; doubly so was it to such a hyper-sensitive nature. The young clergyman stood hesitant just within the doorway, his usual pallor greatly deepened, his thin fingers intertwisted – in doubt how to greet Katherine till she stretched out her hand to him.
“I want you to understand, Katherine dear,” little Mrs. Sherman put in quickly, with a look of adoration at her husband, “that Edgar reached the decision to take the action he did only after days of agony. You know, Katherine, Doctor West was always as kind to me as another father, and I loved him almost like one. At first I begged Edgar not to do anything. Edgar walked the floor for nights – suffering! – oh, how you suffered, Edgar!”
“Isn’t it a little incongruous,” said Doctor Sherman, smiling wanly at her, “for the instrument that struck the blow to complain, in the presence of the victim, of his suffering?”
“But I want her to know it!” persisted the wife. “She must know it to do you justice, dear! It seemed at first disloyal – but finally Edgar decided that his duty to the city – ”
“Please say no more, Elsie.” Katherine turned to the pale young minister. “Doctor Sherman, I have not come to utter one single word of recrimination. I have come merely to ask you to tell me all you know about the case.”
“I shall be glad to do so.”
“And could I also talk with Mr. Marcy, the agent?”
“He has left the city, and will not return till the trial.”
Katherine was disappointed by this news. Doctor Sherman, though obviously pained by the task, rehearsed in minutest detail the charges he had made against Doctor West, which charges he would later have to repeat upon the witness stand. Also he recounted Mr. Marcy’s story. Katherine scrutinized every point in these two stories for the loose end, the loop-hole, the flaw, she had thought to find. But flaw there was none. The stories were perfectly straightforward.
Katherine walked slowly away, still going over and over Doctor Sherman’s testimony. Doctor Sherman was telling the indubitable truth – yet her father was indubitably innocent. It was a puzzling case, this her first case – a puzzling, most puzzling case.
When she reached home she was told by her aunt that a gentleman was waiting to see her. She entered the big, old-fashioned parlour, fresh and tasteful despite the stiff black walnut that, in the days of her mother’s marriage, had been spread throughout the land as beauty by the gentlemen who dealt conjointly in furniture and coffins.
From a chair there rose a youthful and somewhat corpulent presence, with a chubby and very serious pink face that sat in a glossy high collar as in a cup. He smiled with a blushful but ingratiating dignity.
“Don’t you remember me? I’m Charlie Horn.”
“Oh!” And instinctively, as if to identify him by Charlie Horn’s well-remembered strawberry-marks, Katherine glanced at his hands. But they were clean, and the warts were gone. She looked at him in doubt. “You can’t be Nellie Horn’s little brother?”
“I’m not so little,” he said, with some resentment. “Since you knew me,” he added a little grandiloquently, “I’ve graduated from Bloomington.”
“Please pardon me! It was kind of you to call, and so soon.”
“Well, you see I came on business. I suppose you have seen this afternoon’s Express?”
She instinctively stiffened.
“I have not.”
He drew out a copy of the Express, opened it, and pointed a plump, pinkish forefinger at the beginning of an article on the first page.
“You see the Express says you are going to be your father’s lawyer.”
Katharine read the indicated paragraphs. Her colour heightened. The statement was blunt and bare, but between the lines she read the contemptuous disapproval of the “new woman” that a few hours since Bruce had displayed before her. Again her anger toward Bruce flared up.
“I am a reporter for the Clarion,” young Charlie Horn announced, striving not to appear too proud. “And I’ve come to interview you.”
“Interview me?” she cried in dismay. “What about?”
“Well, you see,” said he, with his benign smile, “you’re the first woman lawyer that’s ever been in Westville. It’s almost a bigger sensation than your fath – you see, it’s a big story.”
He drew from his pocket a bunch of copy paper. “I want you to tell me about how you are going to handle the case. And about what you think a woman lawyer’s prospects are in Westville. And about what you think will be woman’s status in future society. And you might tell me,” concluded young Charlie Horn, “who your favourite author is, and what you think of golf. That last will interest our readers, for our country club is very popular.”
It had been the experience of Nellie Horn’s brother that the good people of Westville were quite willing – nay, even had a subdued eagerness – to discourse about themselves, and whom they had visited over Sunday, and who was “Sundaying” with them, and what beauties had impressed them most at Niagara Falls; and so that confident young ambassador from the Clarion was somewhat dazed when, a moment later, he found himself standing alone on the West doorstep with a dim sense of having been politely and decisively wished good afternoon.
But behind him amid the stiff, dark, solemn-visaged furniture (Calvinists, every chair of them!) he left a person far more dazed than himself. Charlie Horn’s call had brought sharply home to Katherine a question that, in the press of affairs, she hardly had as yet considered – how was Westville going to take to a woman lawyer being in its midst? She realized, with a chill of apprehension, how profoundly this question concerned her next few months. Dear, bustling, respectable Westville, she well knew, clung to its own idea of woman’s sphere as to a thing divinely ordered, and to seek to leave which was scarcely less than rebellion against high God. In patriarchal days, when heaven’s justice had been prompter, such a disobedient one would suddenly have found herself rebuked into a bit of saline statuary.
Katherine vividly recalled, when she had announced her intention to study law, what a raising of hands there was, what a loud regretting that she had not a mother. But since she had not settled in Westville, and since she had not been actively practising in New York, the town had become partially reconciled. But this step of hers was new, without a precedent. How would Westville take it?
Her brain burned with this and other matters all afternoon, all evening, and till the dawn began to edge in and crowd the shadows from her room. But when she met her father at the breakfast table her face was fresh and smiling.
“Well, how is my client this morning?” she asked gaily. “Do you realize, daddy, that you are my first really, truly client?”
“And I suppose you’ll be charging me something outrageous as a fee!”
“Something like this” – kissing him on the ear. “But how do you feel?”
“Certain that my lawyer will win my case.” He smiled. “And how are you?”
“Brimful of ideas.”
“Yes? About the – ”
“Yes. And about you. First, answer a few of your counsel’s questions. Have you been doing much at your scientific work of late?”
“The last two months, since the water-works has been practically completed, I have spent almost my whole time at it.”
“And your work was interesting?”
“Very. You see, I think I am on the verge of discovering that the typhoid bacillus – ”
“You’ll tell me all about that later. Now the first order of your attorney is, just as soon as you have finished your coffee and folded your napkin, back you go to your laboratory.”
“But, Katherine, with this affair – ”
“This affair, worry and all, has been shifted off upon your eminent counsel. Work will keep you from worry, so back you go to your darling germs.”
“You’re mighty good, dear, but – ”
“No argument! You’ve got to do just what your lawyer tells you. And now,” she added “as I may have to be seeing a lot of people, and as having people about the house may interrupt your work, I’m going to take an office.”
He stared at her.
“Take an office?”
“Yes. Who knows – I may pick up a few other cases. If I do, I know who can use the money.”
“But open an office in Westville! Why, the people – Won’t it be a little more unpleasant – ” He paused doubtfully. “Did you see what the Express had to say about you?”
She flushed, but smiled sweetly.
“What the Express said is one reason why I’m going to open an office.”
“Yes?”
“I’m not going to let fear of that Mr. Bruce dictate my life. And since I’m going to be a lawyer, I’m going to be the whole thing. And what’s more, I’m going to act as though I were doing the most ordinary thing in the world. And if Mr. Bruce and the town want to talk, why, we’ll just let ’em talk!”
“But – but – aren’t you afraid?”
“Of course I’m afraid,” she answered promptly. “But when I realize that I’m afraid to do a thing, I’m certain that that is just exactly the thing for me to do. Oh, don’t look so worried, dear” – she leaned across and kissed him – “for I’m going to be the perfectest, properest, politest lady that ever scuttled a convention. And nothing is going to happen to me – nothing at all.”
Breakfast finished, Katherine despotically led her father up to his laboratory. A little later she set out for downtown, looking very fresh in a blue summer dress that had the rare qualities of simplicity and grace. Her colour was perhaps a little warmer than was usual, but she walked along beneath the maples with tranquil mien, seemingly unconscious of some people she passed, giving others a clear, direct glance, smiling and speaking to friends and acquaintances in her most easy manner.
