, and he did it well. Then by degrees he built up quite a large
general practice of the kind known as deviling. Now there are few things
more unsatisfactory than doing another man's work for nothing, but
every case fought means knowledge gained, and what is more it is
advertisement. So it came to pass that within less than two years from
the date of his money misfortunes, Geoffrey Bingham's dark handsome face
and square strong form became very well known in the Courts.

"What is that man's name?" said one well-known Q.C. to another still
more well known, as they sat waiting for their chops in the Bar Grill
Room, and saw Geoffrey, his wig pushed back from his forehead, striding
through the doorway on the last day of the sitting which preceded the
commencement of this history.

"Bingham," answered the other. "He's only begun to practise lately,
but he'll be at the top of the tree before he has done. He married
very well, you know, old Garsington's daughter, a charming woman, and
handsome too."

"He looks like it," grunted the first, and as a matter of fact such was
the general opinion.

For, as Beatrice had said, Geoffrey Bingham was a man who had success
written on his forehead. It would have been almost impossible for him to
fail in whatever he undertook.

CHAPTER IX

WHAT BEATRICE DREAMED

Geoffrey lay upon his back, watching the still patch of sunshine and
listening to the ticking of the clock, as he passed all these and many
other events in solemn review, till the series culminated in his vivid
recollection of the scene of that very morning.

"I am sick of it," he said at last aloud, "sick and tired. She makes my
life wretched. If it wasn't for Effie upon my word I'd . . . By Jove, it
is three o'clock; I will go and see Miss Granger. She's a woman, not a
female ghost at any rate, though she is a freethinker--which," he added
as he slowly struggled off the couch, "is a very foolish thing to be."

Very shakily, for he was sadly knocked about, Geoffrey hobbled down the
long narrow room and through the door, which was ajar. The opposite door
was also set half open. He knocked softly, and getting no answer pushed
it wide and looked in, thinking that he had, perhaps, made some mistake
as to the room. On a sofa placed about two-thirds down its length, lay
Beatrice asleep. She was wrapped in a kind of dressing-gown of some
simple blue stuff, and all about her breast and shoulders streamed her
lovely curling ha