I shall never forget that interview. Miss Blake arrived about five o'clock, when it was quite dark out of doors, and when, in all our offices except Mr. Craven's, the gas was flaring away triumphantly. In his apartment he kept the light always subdued, but between the fire and the lamp there was plenty of light to see that Miss Blake looked ill and depressed, and that Mr. Craven had assumed a peculiar expression, which, to those who knew him best, implied he had made up his mind to pursue a particular course of action, and meant to adhere to his determination.
"You wanted to see me," said our client, breaking the ice.
"Yes; I wanted to tell you that our connection with the River Hall property must be considered at an end."
"Well, well, that is the way of men, I suppose—in England."
"I do not think any man, whether in England or Ireland, could have done more for a client than I have tried to do for you, Miss Blake," was the offended answer.
"I am sure I have never found fault with you," remarked Miss Blake, deprecatingly.
"And I do not think," continued Mr. Craven, unheeding her remark, "any lawyer ever met with a worse return for all his trouble than I have received from you."
"Dear, dear," said Miss Blake, with comic disbelief in her tone, "that is very bad."
"There are two classes of men who ought to be treated with entire confidence," persisted Mr. Craven, "lawyers and doctors. It is as foolish to keep back anything from one as from another."
"I daresay," argued Miss Blake; "but we are not all wise alike, you know."