"No one's suggested your leaving the bar. In fact"--Jimmy began to stammer, as a man making offer of a gift which is almost certain to be refused--"another thing I came round to see you about was----"
The sentence refused to complete itself: and Jimmy started a new one. "As you know, our partners, the Cartwrights, do quite a lot of work that never comes into the High Court at all; criminal stuff, county courts, and all that sort of thing. If you'd care to accept their briefs----"
Again the sentence refused to complete itself; again the two friends looked at one another in silence. Then the barrister said:
"A bit of a come-down, isn't it? Almost as bad as 'taking soup.'"
This allusion to the practice of young and briefless barristers, who sit all day long in the criminal courts waiting their chance to defend any prisoners that may be allotted to them, made Ronnie's friend squirm.
"Hang it all, it isn't as bad as that. John Cartwright's quite a good sort. And a big criminal case brings other work. Anyway, think it over, and let me know." Jimmy rose to go. "And by the way, will you give my regards to the little lady? Tell her how sorry I am about the whole thing and that I'm sure it'll all come out right in the long run."
At the door, James Wilberforce turned; and, coming back, extended a hand. "Buck up, old boy," he mumbled rather shamefacedly.
Left alone, Ronnie sat for a long while, scrawling on the blotting-pad.
"After all," he thought, "it was pretty decent of Jimmy to send Alie that message. I wonder why he did it. I wonder whether he's still keen on Mollie. Jolly rough luck on him if he is. Curse that fellow Brunton! He's stirred up a pretty kettle of fish."
And from that he fell to evil-tempered rumination--in which his newly-aroused ambition for legal success played no small rôle--finally deciding, faute de mieux, to accept the work offered.