No one spoke for a moment.  Then Emily broke the silence.

“You don’t know?” she repeated, rather sharply.  “Why not, may I ask?”

“Oh, I don’t, that’s all.  For one thing, there is just a little too much condescension in my dear cousin’s manner.  I may be a yellow dog, but I don’t like to sit up and beg when my master threatens to throw me a bone.  Perhaps I’m particular as to who that master may be.”

Again it was Emily who spoke.

“Perhaps you are—­too particular,” she said.  “Can you afford to be so particular?”

“Probably not.  But, you see, there is another thing.  There is a question of professional ethics involved.  If I take that retainer I am bound in honor to undertake any case Cousin Holliday may give me.  And—­and, I’m not sure I should care to do that.  You know how I feel about a lawyer’s duty to his client and his duty to himself.  There are certain questions—­”

She interrupted.

“I think there are, too many questions,” she said.  “I lose patience with you sometimes.  Often and often I have known of your refusing cases which other lawyers have taken and won.”

“Meaning Brother Daniels?” He asked it with a smile, but with some sarcasm in his tone.  Both he and Miss Rowes seemed to have forgotten that the captain and Thankful were present.

“Why, yes.  Mr. Daniels has accepted cases which you have refused.  No one thinks the less of him for it.  He will accept your cousin’s retainer if you don’t.”

“I presume he will.  That would be the practical thing to do, and he prides himself on his practicality.”

“Practicality is not altogether bad.  It is often necessary in this practical world.  What case is Mr. Kendrick likely to put in your hands which you would hesitate to undertake?”

“None that I know of.  But if he did, I—­”

“You could refuse to take it.”

“Why, not easily.  I should have accepted his retainer and that, according to legal etiquette, would make me honor bound to—­”

She interrupted again.  Her patience was almost gone, that was plain.  For the matter of that, so was Captain Obed’s.

“Don’t you think that you are a trifle too sensitive concerning honor?” she asked.  “And too suspicious besides?  I do.  Oh, I am tired of your scruples.  I don’t like to see you letting success and—­and all the rest of it pass you by, when other men, not so overscrupulous, do succeed.  Don’t you care for success?  Or for money?”

John interrupted her.  He leaned forward and spoke, deliberately but firmly.  And he looked her straight in the face.

“I do,” he said.  “I care for both—­now—­more than I ever thought I could care.”

And, all at once, the young lady seemed to remember that her cousin and the captain were in the room.  She colored, and when she spoke it was in a different tone.

“Then,” she said, “it seems to me, if I were you, I should accept the opportunities that came in my way.  Of course, it’s not my affair.  I shouldn’t have presumed to advise.”  She rose and moved toward the door.  “Good night, Mr. Kendrick,” she said.  “Good night, Captain Bangs.  Auntie, you will excuse me, won’t you?  I am rather tired tonight, and—­”