“Indeed, we have,” Hammond replied warmly. “I am happy to have you look upon me as your friend instead of merely your attorney.” “I need your friendship now, Hammond, more than I ever needed anything in my life.” Hammond grasped his hand firmly: “You can depend upon me, Hugh. Had Howard been anyone’s son but yours, I should never have bothered with this case. You know it is entirely out of my line of work.” “It is not about Howard at all that I wish to speak,” Hugh announced calmly. “No? Of whom then?” “Myself——” “Yourself?” Hammond inquired, surprisedly. “Myself and my wife. Hammond, you will no doubt be very much surprised to hear that Mrs. Benton and I have agreed—to separate.” “Separate! Why I can’t believe it!” The lawyer seemed dumfounded at the news. “You have a grown son and daughter, and you have been married a great many years. Why I thought that you and Mrs. Benton——” “You thought the same thing as everyone else who knows us,” Hugh interrupted with undisguised bitterness, “that we are an absolutely mismated couple endeavoring to drag out an unhappy existence together.” “You’re wrong, Benton. I never thought that. I knew that Mrs. Benton was different from the majority of the women of to-day, and candidly speaking, I admired her for that very reason.” “But don’t you think Mrs. Benton carries her ideas of propriety rather to the extreme?” Hugh asked irritably. “That depends entirely upon the way you look at it. I must confess that I am somewhat of the old school myself, and therefore I don’t particularly approve of your modern ‘feminists,’ as I believe they choose to call themselves.” “Just what is your definition of ‘feminist,’” asked Hugh. “And why the disapproval?” “Because,” and there was a dreaminess in Hammond’s eyes that would have astonished many a judge and lawyer in New York city, could they but have seen it, “they have tried to replace the most wonderful women of all times—the women of bygone years—the women our mothers were. Instead of glorying in wifehood and motherhood—the true mission of every womanly woman—they launch forth into politics or business or professions with ambitions and determinations worthy of men, or else they fritter their lives away, becoming more and more useless every day.” “Why, Hammond, you speak as though you have been the victim of a bitter experience.” “No,” was the answer, with a shake of the head, “I’m not speaking from experience at all—I’m speaking from observation. In my career, I can view the drama of Life from a front-seat.” “Strange,” Hugh meditated. “In all the years that I have known you, John Hammond, I never once suspected that you, with your abrupt manner and stern demeanor could be an idealist.” “Well,” he laughed, “I wouldn’t go quite so far as to say I am an idealist, but I do admire and hold in the highest esteem a true woman.” “But you won’t permit your ideas to influence you—you’ll be perfectly fair with me?” Hugh demanded.