Toynbee. There was bound to be a connection. Did you enjoy your work there, Miss Gifford?”
“It gave me a degree of purpose. Unlike you, I suspect, I worked there not out of altruism but of necessity. Nobody else would take me. It was the only way I could gain any experience in the law at all.”
“Has it been a very rough ride for you, Miss Gifford? Do you know, I’m absolutely fascinated. A couple of ladies have recently been called to the bar, possibly you’re acquainted with them, Williams and Normanton. Such stalwarts. So fierce and determined. One has to admire them, one really does. Look I’m absolutely parched, I know of a cracking little tea shop near here, would you mind, could you bear to take tea with me? You probably won’t believe this but I have been hoping to run into you these past couple of days.”
I was so startled I actually stopped dead. “I’m afraid I have to get back to the office.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Tea, Miss Gifford, is all I’m suggesting. Ten minutes of your time. Don’t look so horrified.”
But I had grown hotter still, this time with anger. I knew his game all right—Let’s charm the frightful bluestocking Miss Gifford into pouring out her little would-be legal heart and then cut her down to size: I’ve often wondered, Miss Gifford, perhaps you’d give me your opinion—do you think that tokenism is better than nothing at all? How does it feel to be a token , Miss Gifford?
A cart had slipped a sack of coal and the smell of dust was stifling. Before I knew it, Thorne had seized my case. “You are absolutely white as a sheet. It is rotten of me to have kept you in this broiling sun. I think you’ll find the place I have in mind is rather cool and it will barely take you a step out of your way.”
He strode along, swinging my case, and short of wrenching it out of his hand what could I do but trot beside him as he scattered remarks like a bird-feeder dispensing corn? “. . . Extraordinary friendships forged at Toynbee . . . missed your Breen by a couple of years but knew of him by reputation . . . opportunity to share one’s education with those who . . .” We reached the café, where the door stood open and inside the edges of checked tablecloths were ruffled by an electric ceiling fan. He chose a corner table and took my jacket, held back a chair for me, and folded himself into another—his long legs would not fit under the table. “The truth is I was very impressed when I saw you in court the other day. Less impressed by the magistrate, I might add, who I thought treated you appallingly. For the first time, when I heard you pleading for your client, I saw the case for women in court. I realized there might be sympathy between women in trouble and a woman lawyer.”
An urn hissed behind the counter while an offhand woman in a flowered overall came forward to take the order. I gathered my wits. “No,” I said firmly.
“Miss Gifford?”
“That’s not why I trained, to help just women. No, I wish to serve all people. I don’t want to become part of some lesser branch of the law, as I think has happened to some extent with women in medicine.”
“I didn’t mean lesser .”
“I think you probably did. I have heard the argument before, numerous times. Would you consider yourself to be an effective barrister if you were only allowed to practice with one half of the population?”
“You have a point, Miss Gifford, but you must allow me to take one step at a time. Before I met you I had an entirely different viewpoint; I didn’t see the need for lady lawyers at all.” He paused to bestow a smile on the waitress as she set out the cups, ran his fingers through his damp hair to slick it back from his forehead, and rested his arm along the table. “I couldn’t imagine doing battle with a lady across the floor of a courtroom. It would be like sparring with my mother or fiancée, something that as a well-brought-up young man I simply
“It gave me a degree of purpose. Unlike you, I suspect, I worked there not out of altruism but of necessity. Nobody else would take me. It was the only way I could gain any experience in the law at all.”
“Has it been a very rough ride for you, Miss Gifford? Do you know, I’m absolutely fascinated. A couple of ladies have recently been called to the bar, possibly you’re acquainted with them, Williams and Normanton. Such stalwarts. So fierce and determined. One has to admire them, one really does. Look I’m absolutely parched, I know of a cracking little tea shop near here, would you mind, could you bear to take tea with me? You probably won’t believe this but I have been hoping to run into you these past couple of days.”
I was so startled I actually stopped dead. “I’m afraid I have to get back to the office.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Tea, Miss Gifford, is all I’m suggesting. Ten minutes of your time. Don’t look so horrified.”
But I had grown hotter still, this time with anger. I knew his game all right—Let’s charm the frightful bluestocking Miss Gifford into pouring out her little would-be legal heart and then cut her down to size: I’ve often wondered, Miss Gifford, perhaps you’d give me your opinion—do you think that tokenism is better than nothing at all? How does it feel to be a token , Miss Gifford?
A cart had slipped a sack of coal and the smell of dust was stifling. Before I knew it, Thorne had seized my case. “You are absolutely white as a sheet. It is rotten of me to have kept you in this broiling sun. I think you’ll find the place I have in mind is rather cool and it will barely take you a step out of your way.”
He strode along, swinging my case, and short of wrenching it out of his hand what could I do but trot beside him as he scattered remarks like a bird-feeder dispensing corn? “. . . Extraordinary friendships forged at Toynbee . . . missed your Breen by a couple of years but knew of him by reputation . . . opportunity to share one’s education with those who . . .” We reached the café, where the door stood open and inside the edges of checked tablecloths were ruffled by an electric ceiling fan. He chose a corner table and took my jacket, held back a chair for me, and folded himself into another—his long legs would not fit under the table. “The truth is I was very impressed when I saw you in court the other day. Less impressed by the magistrate, I might add, who I thought treated you appallingly. For the first time, when I heard you pleading for your client, I saw the case for women in court. I realized there might be sympathy between women in trouble and a woman lawyer.”
An urn hissed behind the counter while an offhand woman in a flowered overall came forward to take the order. I gathered my wits. “No,” I said firmly.
“Miss Gifford?”
“That’s not why I trained, to help just women. No, I wish to serve all people. I don’t want to become part of some lesser branch of the law, as I think has happened to some extent with women in medicine.”
“I didn’t mean lesser .”
“I think you probably did. I have heard the argument before, numerous times. Would you consider yourself to be an effective barrister if you were only allowed to practice with one half of the population?”
“You have a point, Miss Gifford, but you must allow me to take one step at a time. Before I met you I had an entirely different viewpoint; I didn’t see the need for lady lawyers at all.” He paused to bestow a smile on the waitress as she set out the cups, ran his fingers through his damp hair to slick it back from his forehead, and rested his arm along the table. “I couldn’t imagine doing battle with a lady across the floor of a courtroom. It would be like sparring with my mother or fiancée, something that as a well-brought-up young man I simply
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