“Ah!” cried Hazlewood in triumph.  “Being friends is one thing, Margaret.  Marrying is another.”

Mrs. Pettifer shook her head over her brother with a most aggravating pity.

“Dick said a shrewd thing the other day to me, Harold.”

Mr. Hazlewood looked doubtfully at his sister.

“I am sure of it,” he answered, but he was careful not to ask for any repetition of the shrewd remark.  Margaret, however, was not in the mind to let him off.

“He said that sentimental philosophers sooner or later break their heads against their own theories.  Mark those words, Harold!  I hope they won’t come true of you.  I hope so very much indeed.”

But it was abundantly clear that she had not a shadow of doubt that they would come true.  Mr. Hazlewood was stung by the slighting phrase.

“I am not a sentimental philosopher,” he said hotly.  “Sentiment I altogether abhor.  I hold strong views, I admit.”

“You do indeed,” his sister interrupted with an ironical laugh.  “Oh, I have read your pamphlet, Harold.  The prison walls must cast no shadow and convicts, once they are released, have as much right to sit down at our dinner-tables as they had before.  Well, you carry your principles into practice, that I will say.  We had an illustration to-night.”

“You are unjust, Margaret,” and Mr. Hazlewood rose from his chair with some dignity.  “You speak of Mrs. Ballantyne, not for the first time, as if she had been tried and condemned.  In fact she was tried and acquitted,” and in his turn he appealed to Pettifer.

“Ask Robert!” he said.

But Pettifer was slow to answer, and when he did it was without assurance.

“Ye-es,” he replied with something of a drawl.  “Undoubtedly Mrs. Ballantyne was tried and acquitted”; and he left the impression on the two who heard him that with acquittal quite the last word had not been said.  Mrs. Pettifer looked at him eagerly.  She drew clear at once of the dispute.  She left the questions now to Harold Hazlewood, and Pettifer had spoken with so much hesitation that Harold Hazlewood could not but ask them.

“You are making reservations, Robert?”

Pettifer shrugged his shoulders.

“I think we have a right to know them,” Hazlewood insisted.  “You are a solicitor with a great business and consequently a wide experience.”

“Not of criminal cases, Hazlewood.  I bring no more authority to judge them than any other man.”

“Still you have formed an opinion.  Please let me have it,” and Mr. Hazlewood sat down again and crossed his knees.  But a little impatience was now audible in his voice.

“An opinion is too strong a word,” replied Pettifer guardedly.  “The trial took place nearly eighteen months ago.  I read the accounts of it certainly day by day as I travelled in the train to London.  But they were summaries.”

“Full summaries, Robert,” said Hazlewood.