"No, we don't. As long as we stay in the shameful business."
John Lowell's smile vanished. He looked at Roger with a sudden, new penetration, as if he had only just come to the realization of the seriousness of Roger's objection. After all, it might be well to temporize a little with this hectic young idealist. The firm needed Roger in many ways, and, in time, might need him more. With all this popular truckling to labor and democracy, this preposterous inversion of common sense and accepted order that seemed settling on the world, Lowell & Morrison might come to need a signpost in the murk.
John Lowell frowned thoughtfully. In the six months of Roger's connection with Lowell & Morrison, John Lowell had, more than once, admitted to old Morrison that Roger Barton had "principle-itis in an acute form." But as he had never seen, in the long course of his legal life, this disease withstand the treatment of personal success, he had kept his faith in Roger's final malleability—and many cases from Roger's knowledge. This Morgan matter had escaped his vigilance, and he was almost as angry with old Morrison as with Roger.
"Well," he finally conceded and rose to indicate the interview at an end. "I don't want you to do anything you don't believe in, Barton. I'll give the briefs to Daniels. You need have nothing to do with it."
"I never intended to have anything to do with it, nor with any other case from now on. I'm through."
For a moment John Lowell looked at the younger man with a look of hatred, scorn, and a shade of envy so faint that it was gone before Roger could be sure it had been. Then he shrugged his acceptance.
"That, of course, is for you to decide. I would not want to try to influence you in either direction. If you feel there is a purer field for your talents, why, go to it. The law has existed for several thousands of years and will probably go on." With a cold smile that never touched his eyes, he turned to Anne.
"Miss Mitchell, could you take some letters right away? I must get them off before five."
But Anne was coming slowly across the room toward him, as if drawn against her consciousness. Now, at the direct address her face flushed to realization; she hesitated, and then completed the distance with so genuine an effort that Roger Barton felt her courage, and without knowing that he moved, took a step toward her, as if answering the call of her slight frailness for physical support.
"Do you really mean that those people are going to be maneuvered out of their homes? That the legal action is only a sham? That it's all settled before we begin?"