"Why do you wish it?" said Marriott, suddenly turning almost savagely on Eades. "Why," said Eades, elevating his brows in a superior way, "I don’t like to see you in such work. A criminal practice is the disreputable part of the profession." "But you have a criminal practice." "Oh, but on the other side!" said Modderwell. "And we all expect so much better things of Mr. Marriott." "Oh, don’t trouble yourselves about me!" said Marriott. "I’m sure I prefer my side of the case to Eades’s." The atmosphere was surcharged with bitterness. Mrs. Ward gave a sidelong glance of pain, deprecating such a _contretemps_. "And I’m going to try to save him," Marriott was forging on. "Well," said Eades, looking down on his large oval polished nails, and speaking in a tone that would finally dispose of the problem, "for my part, I revere the law and I want to see it enforced." "Exactly!" Modderwell agreed. "And if there were fewer delays in bringing these criminals to justice, there would be fewer lynchings and more respect for the law." Marriott did not even try to conceal the disgust with which he received this hackneyed and conventional formula of thoughtless respectability. He felt that it was useless to argue with Eades or Modderwell; it seemed to him that they had never thought seriously of such questions, and would not do so, but that they were merely echoing speeches they had heard all their lives, inherited speeches that had been in vogue for generations, ages, one might say. "I am sure it must be a most disagreeable task," Mrs. Ward was saying, looking at her daughter in the hope that Elizabeth might relieve a situation with which she felt herself powerless to deal. Marriott seemed always to be introducing such topics, and she had the distaste of her class for the real vital questions of life. But Elizabeth was speaking. "I’m sure that Gordon’s task isn’t more disagreeable than mine." "Yours?" Mrs. Ward turned toward her daughter, dreading things even worse now. "Yes," replied Elizabeth, looking about in pleasure at the surprise she had created. "Why, what problem have you?" asked Modderwell. "I’ve been sent for--to come to the prison to see--" "Not _him_!" said Modderwell. Eades started suddenly forward. "No," said Elizabeth calmly, enjoying the situation, "his sister." "His sister!" "Yes," she turned to her mother. "You know, dear; Gusta. She’s been arrested." "Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Ward. "Elizabeth! The idea! What impertinence! Who could have brought such an insolent message!" She looked at Marriott, as did the others. "The idea!" Mrs. Ward went on. "Why, I had no notion he was _her_ brother. To think of our harboring such people!"