"Yet it may happen," Northcote rejoined, "that the plane of matter-of-fact common sense may not be identical in the eyes of attorney and advocate."
"Is not the hour somewhat advanced for a Socratic dialogue?" said the solicitor.
"Also," persisted Northcote, "the plane of matter-of-fact common sense, in whatever it may consist, may not prove identical in the eyes of the jury and the judge; also in the eyes of the person who committed the crime, and the person who was the victim of it."
"We are not here to traverse the moral code," said the solicitor, "or to enter the domain of abstract reason. The English penal law is perfectly explicit upon the point at issue, as I think you will find on Friday."
Of a sudden Northcote struck the table a violent blow.
"This unhappy woman has been deeply wronged by circumstance," he said, with a vehemence that was totally unexpected.
"It will do your case no harm to show that to the jury," said the solicitor, sucking quietly at his cigar. "There is not a scrap of evidence to support such a contention, but it might be of service if it could be upheld."
"Is it not here that we enter on the higher function of the advocate's art?" said the young man. "Does it not consist in the evocation of that which lies outside the obvious?"
"You must have it entirely your own way, my dear fellow," said the solicitor warily. "I don't propose to play the rôle of Adeimantus at this hour of the night. But I don't mind remarking that you
