"Well, it takes time, anyway," said Marley, "and then there's the practice after that--how long will that take?" "Well, let's see," said Powell, plucking reflectively at the flabby skin that hung between the points of his collar. "Let's see." His brows were twitching humorously. "It's taken me about thirty years--I don't know how much longer it'll take." Powell smoked on for a few moments, and then added soberly: "Of course, I had to fool around in politics for about twenty-five years, and save the people." "Do you think," Marley said, after a moment's silence that paid its own respect to Powell's regrets, "that there's an opening for me here in Macochee?" "No, Glenn, I'll tell you. There's no use to think of locating in Macochee or any other small town. The business is dead here. It's too bad, but it's so. When I began there was plenty of real estate law to do, and plenty of criminal law, but the land titles are all settled now--" "That's what Judge Blair said," interrupted Marley. "So you've been to him, have you?" Marley blushed. "Well, not exactly," he said. "I heard him say that." "Yes," mused Powell. "Well, he feathered his nest pretty well while they were being settled. But as I was saying--the criminal business has died out, or rather, it has changed. The criminals haven't any money any more, that is, the old kind of criminals; the corporations have it all now--if you want to make money, you'll have to have them for clients. Of course, the money still goes to the criminal lawyer just as it used to." "I like Macochee," said Marley, his spirits falling fast. "Well, it's a nice old town to live in," Powell assented. "But the devil of it is how're you going to live? Of course, you can study here just as well as anywhere; better than anywhere, in fact; you have plenty of time, and plenty of quiet. But as for locating here--why, it's utterly out of the question for a man who wants to make anything of himself and has to get a living while he's doing it--and I don't know any other kind that ever do make anything out of themselves." "I had hoped--" persisted Marley, longing for Powell to relent.