“It’s certainly a strong one.”
Carr pushed his panama hat back from his forehead and sat down and read the page that Morris indicated.
“That’s it! Those old chaps over there still know some law, don’t they?”
He closed the book and drew his hand across the back of it in a way that was habitual. He liked a book,—you knew it from the way he picked one up and handled it. Students in the offices of Knight, Kittredge and Carr who threw books about or left them open, face down, were not likely to stay long.
“Judge Armstrong of the Appellate Court said a pleasant word to me about your argument in the Mayberry case yesterday.”
“That’s cheering. I hope he’ll decide our way.”
“There’s no use in worrying about that. He said yours was one of the best oral arguments he had ever heard. He asked you some questions, didn’t he?”
Carr looked at Morris with the twinkle in his brown eyes that was his only outward manifestation of mirth.
“He did, indeed. He stopped me when I reached my most telling point, and asked me whether our supreme court hadn’t reversed itself in a decision I was citing. I knew it hadn’t and answered him pretty promptly,—perhaps I was too cocky about it.”
“Not a bit of it! He would like that. He was feeling you to see how much confidence you had in your case. He belongs to the old school of lawyers, who believe in making every case you take the passion of your life. You evidently made a good impression. It pleased me very much to have him speak to me about you.”