“It is true; that woman Margaret Johnstone, who was as brazen as brass, broke down under your cross-examination like a reed with the strong wind. How powerful you were! Every word told.”
“You must not flatter me.”
“I never flatter; but the truth is that you have deservedly made a name, and will make a still greater one. I shall swagger some day that my case was won by the great Q. C., Sir Ralph Webster.”
Ralph Webster laughed, and a faint color stole to his dark face, and then he rose to take his leave.
“Going so soon?” said Kathleen Weir. “Then I must conclude you are tired of my company.”
“Please conclude nothing of the sort, but I am going to dine with two very kind old aunts at Bayswater, and I must not keep them waiting.”
“No, of course not,” and Kathleen Weir held out her white hand. “I am coming out in a new piece to-morrow; will you go and see me act, and then have supper with me afterward?”
“It is a most tempting invitation—”
“That is settled then, and now I will give you a ticket, or tickets, whichever you like. But I warn you not to bring the aunts, as the piece is a trifle fast.”
“Still I should like to see it—and to see you act.”