“Or for your own sake,” she laughed, as she placed her hand on his shoulder.
Soon they were in the mazy whirl. When the dance was ended Dorothy, taking his arm, indicated that she wished him to meet some people in another part of the room. After one or two introductions to young ladies, she turned to a rather heavy set, affable-looking gentleman and said: “Mr. Warfield, permit me to introduce you to Mr. Carlisle—Mr. Carlisle, Mr. Warfield.”
The men shook hands and looked into each other’s eyes. Roderick remembered this was the attorney of the smelting plant, and Carlisle remembered this was the young gentleman of whom the Shields sisters had so often spoken in complimentary terms. W. Henry Carlisle was a man perhaps forty years old. He was not only learned in the law, but one could not talk with him long without knowing he was purposeful and determined and in any sort of a contest worthy of his foeman’s steel.
Later Roderick danced with Barbara, and when he had handed her over to the next claimant on her card was again accosted by Ben Bragdon. He had liked the young attorney from the first, and together they retired for a cigarette in the smoking room.
“I saw you were introduced to that fellow Carlisle,” began Bragdon.
“Yes,” replied Roderick, smiling, for he already knew of the professional feud between the two men.
“Well, let me say something to you,” Bragdon continued. “You look to me like a man that is worth while, and I take the opportunity of telling you to let him alone. Carlisle is no good. Outside of law business and the law courts I would not speak to him if he were the last man on earth.”
“Why,” said Roderick, “you are pronounced in your views to say the least.”
Bragdon turned to Roderick and for a moment was silent. Then he asked: “What are you, a Republican or a Democrat?”
“Why, I am a Republican.”