"Yes, from them. They are very human, these men, especially the laborers. Their prejudices are cruel enough, but there are joints in their armor. They are used to seeing us either scared or blindly angry, and they understand how to handle us then, but at other times it is hard for them to do anything but meet us in a human way."
"But, Zora, think of the contact of the court, the humiliation, the coarse talk—"
Zora put up her hand and lightly touched his arm. Looking at him, she said:
"Mud doesn't hurt much. This is my duty. Let me do it."
His eyes fell before the shadow of a deeper rebuke. He arose heavily.
"Very well," he acquiesced as he passed slowly out.
The young lawyer started to refuse to touch the case until he saw—or did Zora adroitly make him see?—a chance for eventual political capital. They went over the matter carefully, and the lawyer acquired a respect for the young woman's knowledge.
"First," he said, "get an injunction on the cotton—then go to court." And to insure the matter he slipped over and saw the Judge.
Colonel Cresswell next day stalked angrily into his lawyers' office.
"See here," he thundered, handing the lawyer the notice of the injunction.