"I'm not so sure," Roger had said shortly.
"Ah—let us hope you're right."
In the pause that followed, a feeling that Roger had always had from the very first interview suddenly crystallized. The man was spiritually smug, soaked through and through in unconscious insincerity.
Why had he ever consented to work for Hilary Wainwright? Instantly Roger had pushed the question from him and never again had he allowed it to rise clearly before him.
But now, as he came into the office and for a moment unobserved, watched Wainwright pacing slowly the length of the thick, rich rug, the well-kept hands clasped behind his back, frowning so seriously, Roger felt a positive repulsion of the man's smugness touch him, an almost physical inability to go over to his own desk and seriously begin consideration of one of Hilary's futile little problems.
At the sound of the door closing, Wainwright turned.
"That Sabatini case has bobbed up again, Barton, and I wish you'd look into it. All kinds of welfare committees are pestering me about it and your legal experience will make a report valuable."
"He's that Sicilian fisherman who burned down the warehouse of the United Fish Company and incidentally almost killed Joe Morelli?"
"That's the man. It's straight arson and attempt to murder, as far as I can see, but the Republicans and the Democrats are fighting for the elections and this thing has been dragged in. The fishermen worship Sabatini. He has power. Worse, he has a wife and eight children. There is no issue in the Latin Quarter at present to hang a fight upon and so Sabatini's friends are using him. The present district attorney is against him, but—the present district attorney wants to be reëlected. Sabatini speaks very little English, wears gold hoops in his ears and a red sash, and his children are really beautiful. The Settlement is very fond of the family and a lot of sentimentality is creeping into the thing, I'm afraid. Could you make it to-day?"
"Certainly. There's nothing special. I'll report back to-night."