"The law wasn’t made for lawyers, was it, John?" He appealed suddenly to Eades, whose conventionality he always liked to shock, and Elizabeth smiled, and Eades became very dignified. "I’ve been out to see our old friends, the Koerners," Marriott went on. "Oh, tell me about them!" said Elizabeth, leaning forward with eager interest. "How is Gusta?" "Gusta’s well, and prettier than ever. Jove! What a beauty that girl is!" "Isn’t she pretty?" said Elizabeth. "She was a delight in the house for that very reason. And how is poor old Mr. Koerner--and all of them?" "Well," said Marriott, "Koerner’s amputated leg is all knotted up with rheumatism." Miss Masters’s dark face was pinched in a scowl. "And Archie’s in jail." "In jail!" Elizabeth dropped back in her chair. "Yes, in jail." "Why! What for?" "Well, he seems to belong to a gang that was arrested day before yesterday for something or other." "There, Mr. Eades," said Elizabeth suddenly, "there now, you must let Archie Koerner go." "Oh, I’ll not let John get a chance at him," said Marriott. "He’s charged with a misdemeanor only--he’ll go to the workhouse, if he goes anywhere." "And you’ll defend him?" "Oh, I suppose so," said Marriott wearily. "You’ve given me a whole family of clients, Elizabeth. I went out to see the old man about his case--I think we’ll try it early this term." "These Koerners are a family in whom I’ve been interested," Elizabeth suddenly thought to explain to Miss Masters, and then she told them of Gusta, of old Koerner’s accident, and of Archie’s career as a soldier. "They’ve had a hard winter of it," said Marriott "The old man, of course, can’t work, and Archie, by his experience as a soldier, seems to have been totally unfitted for everything--except shooting--and shooting is against the law." Now that the conversation had taken this turn, Miss Masters moved to go. She bade Marriott farewell coldly, and Eades warmly, and Elizabeth went with her into the hall. Eades realized that all hope of a tête-à-tête with Elizabeth had departed, and he and Marriott not long afterward left to walk down town together. The sun was warm for the first time in months, and the hope of the spring had brought the people out of doors. Claybourne Avenue was crowded with carriages in which families solemnly enjoyed their Sunday afternoon drives, as they had enjoyed their stupefying dinners of roast beef four hours before. Electric automobiles purred past, and now and then a huge touring car, its driver in his goggles resembling some demon, plunged savagely along, its horn honking hoarsely at every street crossing. The sidewalks were thronged with pedestrians, young men whose lives had no other diversion than to parade in their best clothes or stand on dusty down-town corners, smoke cigars and watch the girls that tilted past. "That Miss Masters is a fool," said Marriott, when they had got away from the house.