“Dick sounds quite the best, in spite of his madness. A cricketer who talks drivel, and a future clergyman working in the East End, don’t suggest anything that appeals to me in the least.”
Nevertheless, when Lorraine, looking very lovely, entered the small sitting-room of her three hosts, her second glance, in spite of herself, strayed back to the young giant on the hearth-rug. He was looking at Hal sideways, with a quizzical air; and she heard him say:
“It may be new, but it’s not the very latest fashion, because it doesn’t stick out far enough at the back, and it doesn’t cover up enough of your face.”
“Oh well!” said Hal jauntily, “if I had as much time as you to study the fashions, I daresay I should know as much about them. But I have to work for my living,” with satirical emphasis.
“What a nuisance for you,” with a delightful smile. “I only pretend to work for mine.”
“We all know that. You sit on a stool, and look nice, and wait for a brief to come along and beg to be taken up.”
“It’s a chair. I’m not one of the clerks. And I shouldn’t get a brief any quicker if I went and shouted on the housetops that I wanted one.”
“Besides, you don’t want one. You know you wouldn’t know what to do with it if you got it. Well, how’s East London?…” and Hall crossed to the slum-worker, with a show of interest she evidently did not feel for the embryo barrister. Lorraine smiled at him, however, and he moved leisurely forward to take the vacant seat beside her on the sofa.
“Is Hal trying to sharpen her wit at your expense?” she asked him, in a friendly, natural way.
“Yes; but it’s a very blunt weapon at the best. People who always think they are the only ones to work are very tiring; don’t you think so?”