which were
often occupied with conferences, the Honourable Hilary's office was
deserted; or rather, as we have seen, his headquarters were removed to
room Number Seven in the Pelican Hotel at the capital. Austen got many of
the lay clients who came to see his father at such times; and--without
giving an exaggerated idea of his income--it might be said that he was
beginning to have what may be called a snug practice for a lawyer of his
experience. In other words, according to Mr. Tooting, who took an intense
interest in the matter, "not wearing the collar" had been more of a
financial success for Austen than that gentleman had imagined. There
proved to be many clients to whom the fact that young Mr. Vane did not
carry a "retainer pass" actually appealed. These clients paid their
bills, but they were neither large nor influential, as a rule, with the
notable exception of the Gaylord Lumber Company, where the matters for
trial were not large. If young Tom Gaylord had had his way, Austen would
have been the chief counsel for the corporation.

To tell the truth, Austen Vane had a secret aversion to going to the
capital during a session, a feeling that such a visit would cause him
unhappiness. In spite of his efforts, and indeed in spite of Hilary's,
Austen and his father had grown steadily apart. They met in the office
hallway, in the house in Hanover Street when Hilary came home to sleep,
and the elder Mr. Vane was not a man to thrive on small talk. His world
was the battlefield from which he directed the forces of the great
corporation which he served, and the cherished vision of a son in whom he
could confide his plans, upon whose aid and counsel he could lean, was
gone forever. Hilary Vane had troublesome half-hours, but on the whole he
had reached the conclusion that this son, like Sarah Austen, was one of
those inexplicable products in which an extravagant and inscrutable
nature sometimes indulged. On the rare evenings when the two were at home
together, the Honourable Hilary sat under one side of the lamp with a
pile of documents and newspapers, and Austen under the other with a book
from the circulating library. No public questions could be broached upon
which they were not as far apart as the poles, and the Honourable Hilary
put literature in the same category as embroidery. Euphrasia, when she
paused in her bodily activity to darn their stockings, used to glance at
them covertly from time to time, and many a silent