“Sorry for Doctor West’s sake—but the case was clear—trial fair—a wholesome example to the city—and some more of that line of talk.”
Bruce grunted.
The reporter leisurely lit a cigarette.
“But how about the lady lawyer, eh?” He playfully prodded his superior’s calf with his pointed shoe. “I suppose you’ll fire me off your rotten old sheet for saying it, but I still think she made a damned good showing considering that she had no case—and considering also that she was a woman.” Again he thrust his toe into his chief. “Considering she was a woman—eh, Arn?”
“Shut up, Billy, or I will fire you,” growled Bruce.
“Oh, all right,” answered the other cheerfully. “After half a year of the nerve-racking social whirl of this metropolis, I think it would be sort of restful to be back in dear, little, quiet Chicago. But seriously now, Arn, you’ve got to admit she’s good-looking?”
“Good looks don’t make a lawyer!” retorted Bruce.
“But she’s clever—got ideas—opinions of her own, and strong ones too.”
“Perhaps.”
The reporter blew out a cloud of smoke.