fford to take a superior attitude in regard to one who was destined
always to be dramatic.

As the case proceeded I was rather disappointed on the whole that he was
not dramatic--not even as dramatic as he had been when he defied the
powers in the Legislature. He had changed but little, he still wore
ill-fitting clothes, but I was forced to acknowledge that he seemed to
have gained in self-control, in presence. He had nodded at me before the
case was called, as he sat beside his maimed client; and I had been on
the alert for a hint of reproach in his glance: there was none. I smiled
back at him....

He did not rant. He seemed to have rather a remarkable knowledge of the
law. In a conversational tone he described the sufferings of the man in
the flannel shirt beside him, but there could be no question of the fact
that he did produce an effect. The spectators were plainly moved, and it
was undeniable that some of the judges wore rather a sheepish look as
they toyed with their watch chains or moved the stationery in front of
them. They had seen maimed men before, they had heard impassioned,
sentimental lawyers talk about wives and families and God and justice.
Krebs did none of this. Just how he managed to bring the thing home to
those judges, to make them ashamed of their role, just how he managed--in
spite of my fortified attitude to revive something of that sense of
discomfort I had experienced at the State House is difficult to say. It
was because, I think, he contrived through the intensity of his own
sympathy to enter into the body of the man whose cause he pleaded, to
feel the despair in Galligan's soul--an impression that was curiously
conveyed despite the dignified limits to which he confined his speech. It
was strange that I began to be rather sorry for him, that I felt a
certain reluctant regret that he should thus squander his powers against
overwhelming odds. What was the use of it all!

At the end his voice became more vibrant--though he did not raise it--as
he condemned the Railroad for its indifference to human life, for its
contention that men were cheaper than rolling-stock.

I encountered him afterward in the corridor. I had made a point of
seeking him out, perhaps from some vague determination to prove that our
last meeting in the little restaurant at the Capital had left no traces
of embarrassment in me: I was, in fact, rather aggressively anxious to
reveal myself to him as one who has thriven on th