Marion's grandfather had been a writer on the law. Warfield on
Evidence, had been the leading authority in this country. And
this ambitious girl had taken a special course in college to fit
her to revise her grandfather's great work. There was no
grandson to undertake this labor, and she had gone about the task
herself. She would not trust the great book to outside hands. A
Warfield had written it, and a Warfield should keep the edition
up. Her revision was now in the hands of a publisher in Boston,
and it was sound and comprehensive, the critics said; the ablest
textbook on circumstantial evidence in America. I looked in a
sort of wonder at this girl, carried off her feet by a tawny
barbarian!
Marion was absorbed in the thing; and I understood her anxiety.
But the most pressing danger, she did not seem to realize.
It lay, I thought, in the revenge of a discharged workman.
Clinton Howard had to drop any number of incompetent persons, and
they wrote him all sorts of threatening letters, I had been told.
With all the awful things that happen over the country some of
these angry people might do anything.
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