A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. Then her eyes flashed. Over these hung levels, bevels, squares, and other instruments of measurement. At last he took up his thoughts again: “I wonder if, some day, one won’t need to rebel against customs and laws? If this discord will have gone? Some day, perhaps—who knows?—the old won’t coddle and hamper the young, and the young won’t need to fly in the faces of the old. Still—you must learn for yourself. She had found the location of his firm on the internet on a library computer, tracing him to this place in New York where he practiced criminal law. We went our ways.
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