For romantic young asses like Laurie Baxter such things were not so
hopelessly incongruous, though obviously they were bad for him; they
were all part of the wild credulousness of a religious youth; but for
Cathcart, aged sixty-two, a solicitor in good practice, with a wife
and two grown-up daughters, and a reputation for exceptionally sound
shrewdness--! But it must be remembered he was a Catholic!
So Mr. James Morton sat in the "Cock" and pondered. He was not sorry
he had tried to take steps to choke off this young fool, and he was
just a little sorry that so far they had failed. He had written to
Miss Deronnais in an impulse, after an unusually feverish outburst
from the boy; and she, he had learnt later, had written to Mr.
Cathcart. The rest had been of the other's devising.
Well, it had failed so far. Perhaps next week things would be better.
He paid his bill, left two pence for the waiter, and went out. He had
a case that afternoon.
III
Laurie left chambers as it was growing dark that afternoon, and went
back to his rooms for tea. He had passed, as was usual now, an
extremely distracted couple of hours, sitting over his books with
spasmodic efforts only to attend to them.
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