He was shown into a room bare of all legal accessories, except a series of Law Reports and a bunch of violets in a glass of fresh water.

Edmund Paramor, the senior partner of Paramor and Herring, a clean-shaven man of sixty, with iron-grey hair brushed in a cockscomb off his forehead, greeted him with a smile.
"Ah, Vigil, how are you?
Up from the country ?" "From Worsted Skeynes." "Horace Pendyce is a client of mine.

Well, what can we do for you?
Your Society up a tree ?" Gregory Vigil, in the padded leather chair that had held so many aspirants for comfort, sat a full minute without speaking; and Mr.
Paramor, too, after one keen glance at his client that seemed to come from very far down in his soul, sat motionless and grave.

There was at that moment something a little similar in the eyes of these two very different men, a look of kindred honesty and aspiration.

Gregory spoke at last.
"It's a painful subject to me." Mr.Paramor drew a face on his blotting-paper.
"I have come," went on Gregory, "about a divorce for my ward." "Mrs.Jaspar Bellew ?" "Yes; her position is intolerable." Mr.Paramor gave him a searching look.
"Let me see: I think she and her husband have been separated for some time." "Yes, for two years." "You're acting with her consent, of course ?" "I have spoken to her." "You know the law of divorce, I suppose ?" Gregory answered with a painful smile: "I'm not very clear about it; I hardly ever look at those cases in the paper.