He lifted his shoulders.
"It is your reputation or Essie Tisdale's."
The name seemed to prick her like a goad. Her hands and body twitched nervously and then he saw swift decision arrive in her face.
"I'll not do it!"
As moved by a common impulse they arose.
"It's the lesser of two evils."
"I don't care!" She reiterated in a kind of hopeless desperation, "I don't care—I'll fight!"
He eyed her again with a recurrence of his impersonal professional scrutiny.
"You can't go through it, Doc; you haven't the stamina, any more. You don't know what you're up against, for I haven't half showed my hand. I have no personal grievance, as you know, but the wrongs of my countrymen are my wrongs, and for your brutality to them you shall answer to me. Fight if you will, but when you're done you'll not disgrace your profession again in this or any other State."
While this scene was occurring in Doctor Harpe's office, Andy P. Symes in his office was toying impatiently with an unopened letter from Mudge as Mr. Percy Parrott, hat in hand, stood before him.