“Cannot! You mean—you refuse his case?”
“It pains me, but I must.”
She grew as white as death.
“Oh!” she breathed. “Oh!” She gazed at him, lips wide, in utter dismay.
Suddenly she seized his arm. “But you have not yet thought it over—you have not considered,” she cried rapidly. “I cannot take no for your answer. I beg you, I implore you, to take the case.”
He seemed to be struggling between two desires. A slender, well-knit hand stretched out and clutched a ruler; his brow was moist; but he kept silent.
“Mr. Blake, I beg you, I implore you, to reconsider,” she feverishly pursued. “Do you not see what it will mean to my father? If you take the case, he is as good as cleared!”
His voice came forth low and husky. “It is because it is beyond my power to clear him that I refuse.”
“Beyond your power?”