Bingham. This indeed she would certainly
have done.
On the following afternoon--it was the Friday before Whit-Sunday, and
the last day of the Easter sittings--Geoffrey sat in his chambers, in
the worst possible spirits, thoroughly stale and worn out with work.
There was a consultation going on, and his client, a pig-headed Norfolk
farmer, who was bent upon proceeding to trial with some extraordinary
action for trespass against his own landlord, was present with his
solicitor. Geoffrey in a few short, clear words had explained the
absurdity of the whole thing, and strongly advised him to settle, for
the client had insisted on seeing him, refusing to be put off with a
written opinion. But the farmer was not satisfied, and the solicitor was
now endeavouring to let the pure light of law into the darkness of his
injured soul.
Geoffrey threw himself back in his chair, pushed the dark hair from his
brow, and pretended to listen. But in a minute his mind was far
away. Heavens, how tired he was! Well, there would be rest for a few
days--till Tuesday, when he had a matter that must be attended to--the
House had risen and so had the courts.
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