'Very urgent, Sir, if it cannot wait till to-morrow morning.'
'Very true, quite true, very urgent indeed,' replied the attorney, calmly; 'I presume, Miss Lake, I may take a chair?'
'Certainly, Sir, if you insist on my listening to-night, which I should certainly decline if I had the power.'
'Thank you, Miss Lake.' And the attorney took a chair, crossing one leg over the other, and throwing his head back as he reclined in it with his long arm over the back—the 'express image,' as he fancied, of a polished gentleman, conducting a diplomatic interview with a clever and high-bred lady.
'Then it is plain, Sir, I must hear you to-night,' said Miss Lake, haughtily.
'Not that, exactly, Miss Lake, but only that I must speak to-night—in fact, I have no choice. The subject of our conference really is, as you will find, an urgent one, and to-morrow morning, which we should each equally prefer, would be possibly too late—too late, at least, to obviate a very painful situation.'
'You will make it, I am sure, as short as you can, Sir,' said the young lady, in the same tone.
'Exactly my wish, Miss Lake,' replied Mr. Jos. Larkin.
'Bring candles, Margery.'
And so the little drawing-room was illuminated; and the bald head of the tall attorney, and the gloss on his easy, black frock-coat, and his gold watch-chain, and the long and large gloved hand, depending near the carpet, with the glove of the other in it. And Mr. Jos. Larkin rose with a negligent and lordly case, and placed a chair for Miss Lake, so that the light might fall full upon her features, in accordance with his usual diplomatic arrangement, which he fancied, complacently, no one had ever detected; he himself resuming his easy pose upon his chair, with his back, as much as was practicable, presented to the candles, and the long, bony fingers of the arm which rested on the table, negligently shading his observing little eyes, and screening off the side light from his expressive features.