| Author: | J S Fletcher | ISBN: | 1230000192810 |
| Publisher: | WDS Publishing | Publication: | October 28, 2013 |
| Imprint: | Language: | English |
| Author: | J S Fletcher |
| ISBN: | 1230000192810 |
| Publisher: | WDS Publishing |
| Publication: | October 28, 2013 |
| Imprint: | |
| Language: | English |
Shelmore, then three-and-twenty years old, had been in practice as a
solicitor for precisely six months, and, probably because he had set up
in his own native city of Southernstowe, the end of that period found him
with exactly twelve clients on his roll. His line was the eminently safe
one of conveyancing and the clients were profitable ones; he knew enough
of his profession to know that his first half-year's experience was
satisfactory and promising. Another fledgling, lower down the street, a
former fellow-articled-clerk, admitted at the same time as himself, who
had gone in for police-court practice, was doubtless having livelier
times, but not making so much substantial gain; his office, perhaps, was
more crowded, but Shelmore preferred the dignified quiet of his own,
wherein he and his clients talked of nothing less important than the
transference or acquisition of real estate.
In a youthful fashion he was somewhat proud of that office. At the street
door there was a beautiful, highly-polished brass plate, engraved in the
very best of taste: Francis D. Shelmore, Solicitor; at the head of the
stair leading up from it there was a smaller one, similarly inscribed, on
an oak door; within that door, in the dark room liberally provided with
all the proper show of papers, parchments, and japanned tin boxes, sat
Shelmore's one clerk, an astute, sharp-eyed, precocious youth named
Simmons Hackdale; within an inner door, duly covered with green baize,
sat Shelmore himself, in a private office very neatly and tastefully
furnished and ornamented.
Shelmore, then three-and-twenty years old, had been in practice as a
solicitor for precisely six months, and, probably because he had set up
in his own native city of Southernstowe, the end of that period found him
with exactly twelve clients on his roll. His line was the eminently safe
one of conveyancing and the clients were profitable ones; he knew enough
of his profession to know that his first half-year's experience was
satisfactory and promising. Another fledgling, lower down the street, a
former fellow-articled-clerk, admitted at the same time as himself, who
had gone in for police-court practice, was doubtless having livelier
times, but not making so much substantial gain; his office, perhaps, was
more crowded, but Shelmore preferred the dignified quiet of his own,
wherein he and his clients talked of nothing less important than the
transference or acquisition of real estate.
In a youthful fashion he was somewhat proud of that office. At the street
door there was a beautiful, highly-polished brass plate, engraved in the
very best of taste: Francis D. Shelmore, Solicitor; at the head of the
stair leading up from it there was a smaller one, similarly inscribed, on
an oak door; within that door, in the dark room liberally provided with
all the proper show of papers, parchments, and japanned tin boxes, sat
Shelmore's one clerk, an astute, sharp-eyed, precocious youth named
Simmons Hackdale; within an inner door, duly covered with green baize,
sat Shelmore himself, in a private office very neatly and tastefully
furnished and ornamented.
