"But a scarlet coat is so dazzling," argued Treble.
"Madam," said Bass, "I cannot claim that my profession is romantick. The Law, Madam, has no time for romance except perhaps in the examination of an unwilling witness, but what my profession lacks, my name possesses. Moon, madam, I venture to affirm, is a singularly romantick name."
"It is," murmured the widow, for, of course, it was she.
"The moon is the method of illumination adopted by every poet of distinction."
"How true that is," she sighed.
"I might add that so far as dazzling goes my name is as capable of extreme refraction as the red coat of a soldier. Moreover, madam, the latter is very antipathetick to the complexion of a woman of quality."
"But the coat need not be worn, Mr. Moon. It could exist in a bottom drawer, I should feel it was there, and I could sometimes brush it even."
"Good heavens! ma'am, has not the Law an equal fascination? Do you know that my house is full of legal cases?"
"How untidy!" said the widow reprovingly.
"Arguments Pro and Contra, trials!"