"I daresay I sha'n't want to keep him longer."
She found herself in a spacious room, which was principally furnished, as it seemed to her, with books. At a table, which was almost entirely covered with books, both open and shut, stood a tall man, with snow-white hair, who bowed to her as she entered.
"You wish to see me?"
"You are Mr Whitcomb?"
"That is my name. How can I serve you?"
She seated herself on the chair towards which he pointed. Each looked at the other for some seconds, in silence. Then she spoke.
"I want you to tell me on what grounds a wife can obtain a divorce from her husband."
Mr Whitcomb raised his eyebrows and smiled.
"I think, madam, that it may have been a solicitor you wanted. I, unfortunately, am only a barrister. I fear you have made a mistake."
"I have not made a mistake; how have I made a mistake? I saw in a paper the other day that you were the greatest living authority on the law of marriage."