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"It sounds a little provincial, but we lawyers exist by reason of provincialism. If people were once to begin making allowances for each other, I don't know where we should be." Mrs. Pendyce's eyes fell again on those words, "Bellew v. Bellew and Pendyce," and again, as though fascinated by their beauty, rested there. "But you wanted to see me about something else too, perhaps?" said Mr. Paramor.
The letter contained but a few words from a firm of solicitors confirming an appointment. She looked up at Mr. Paramor. He stopped pencilling on his blotting-paper, and said at once: "I shall be seeing these people myself tomorrow afternoon. I shall do my best to make them see reason." She felt from his eyes that he knew what she was suffering, and was even suffering with her.
Gregory, smiling painfully, added: "To tell lies." Mr. Pendyce turned on him at once. "I've nothing to say about that, Vigil. George has behaved abominably. I don't uphold him; but if the woman wishes the suit defended he can't play the cur that's what I was brought up to believe." Gregory leaned his forehead on his hand. "The whole system is odious " he was beginning. Mr. Paramor chimed in.
His eyes, which from iron-grey some inner process of spiritual manufacture had made into steel colour, looked young too, although they were grave; and the smile which twisted up the corners of his mouth looked very young. "Well," he said, "it's a great pleasure to see you." Mrs. Pendyce could only answer with a smile. Mr. Paramor put the roses to his nose.
Paramor went back to his seat and stared at what he had written on his blotting paper. It ran thus: "We stand on our petty rights here, And our potty dignity there; We make no allowance for others, They make no allowance for us; We catch hold of them by the ear, They grab hold of us by the hair The result is a bit of a muddle That ends in a bit of a fuss."
To get a divorce, Vigil, you must be as hard as nails and as wary as a cat. Now do you understand?" Gregory did not answer. Mr. Paramor looked searchingly and rather pityingly in his face. "It won't do to go for it at present," he said. "Are you still set on this divorce? I told you in my letter that I am not sure you are right." "How can you ask me, Paramor?
Again she seemed to hear the incessant clicking, to smell leather and disinfectant, to see those words, "Bellew v. Bellew and, Pendyce." She held out her hand. Mr. Paramor took it in his own and looked at the floor. "Good-bye," he said-"good-bye. What's your address Green's Hotel? I'll come and tell you what I do. I know I know!" Mrs.
Paramor answered for her: "No, Pendyce; if George is spoilt, the system is to blame." "System!" said the Squire. "I've never had a system for him. I'm no believer in systems! I don't know what you're talking of. I have another son, thank God!" Mrs. Pendyce took a step forward. "Horace," she said, "you would never " Mr.
He said suddenly: "I can't bear this underhand work." Mr. Paramor smiled. "Every honest man," he said, "feels as you do. But, you see, we must think of the law." Gregory burst out again: "Can no one get a divorce, then, without making beasts or spies of themselves?" Mr. Paramor said gravely "It is difficult, perhaps impossible. You see, the law is based on certain principles." "Principles?"
Paramor made his way into the conservatory. He stopped and came back. "Pendyce," he said, "perfectly understands all I've been telling you. He'd give his eyes for the case not to come on, but you'll see he'll rub everything up the wrong way, and it'll be a miracle if we succeed. That's 'Pendycitis'! We've all got a touch of it. Good-night!"
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