to
her every week a long letter, and spent a large part of the long
vacation in her house in Yorkshire, telling her that he had never
loved any one but her.

James Norris was an able lawyer, and he was an able lawyer for three
reasons. First, because he was a clear-headed man of the world, who
had not allowed his intelligence to rust;--it formed part of the
routine of his life to read some pages of a standard author before
going to bed; he studied all the notorious articles that appeared in
the reviews, attempting the assimilation of the ideas which seemed to
him best in our time. Secondly, he was industrious, and if he led an
independent life, dining frequently in a tavern instead of touting
for briefs in society, and so harmed himself, such misadventure was
counterbalanced by his industry and his prudence. Thirdly, his
sweetness and geniality made him a favourite with the bench. He had
much insight into human nature, he studied it, and could detect
almost at once the two leading spirits on a jury; and he was always
aware of the idiosyncrasies of the judge he was pleading before, and
knew how to respect and to flatter them.

Charles Stokes was the oldest man who frequented Hall's chambers, and
his venerable appearance was an anomaly in a company formed
principally of men under forty. In truth, Charles Stokes was not more
than forty-six or seven, but he explained that living everywhere, and
doing everything, had aged him beyond his years. In mind, however, he
was the youngest there, and his manner was often distressingly
juvenile. He wore old clothes which looked as if they had not been
brushed for some weeks, and his linen was of dubious cleanliness, and
about his rumpled collar there floated a half-tied black necktie.
Mike, who hated all things that reminded him of the casualness of
this human frame, never was at ease in his presence, and his eye
turned in disgust from sight of the poor old gentleman's trembling
and ossified fingers. His beard was long and almost white; he
snuffed, and smoked a clay pipe, and sat in the arm-chair which stood
in the corner beneath the screen which John Norton had left to Hall.

He was always addressed as Mr. Stokes; Hall complimented him and kept
him well supplied with whiskey-and-water. He was listened to on
account of his age--that is to say, on account of his apparent age,
and on account of his gentleness. Harding had described him as one
who talked learned nonsense in sweetly-