you talk so much it will take the young man until daybreak to unfold his story."
"I am an advocate," said Northcote.
"An advocate," said the lady softly; "yes, I think you may be that. One no more associates an advocate with the law than one associates a poet with a publisher."
"You would say," said Northcote, "that it is the function of an advocate to draw his sword for the truth, for progress, for justice, for every human amenity?"
"I would, indeed. Why, if one thinks about it, surely it is nobler to be an advocate than to be a poet or a soldier. One might say it was the highest calling in the world."
"Then let us say it," said the young man, "for I verily believe it to be so."
"And what, pray, was Witty's business with this advocate?"
"They are going to hang a woman; and Mr. Whitcomb, who to his infinite complexities and many-sidedness as a citizen of the world adds a leaven of the finest humanitarian principles, has undertaken to save the poor creature from a fate so pitiful."
"To hang a woman!" said the lady, drawing in her breath with a sharp sound. "Is it still possible to hang a woman at this time of day?"
"Perfectly," said the young man. "They do it in every Christian country."
"Then the world has need for an advocate," said the lady, with horror in her eyes. "It is necessary that we should have yet another champion for our sex in Christendom. Yes, this was he whom Witty
