The Devil's Advocate by Fred M. White

Once he had parted with Macrae, Philp went thoughtfully along the road, turning over the problem in his mind. It seemed to him that it was fortunate for Macrae that he happened to be taking a more or less irregular holiday in the neighborhood of Hitherfield. He ought to have been looking after his own work in London, but the fine weather had tempted him into the country, to say nothing of another lure in the shape of Enid Farmer's beautiful eyes. That little episode in his career was still more or less incomplete, and he had yet to be satisfied that the course of true love was running smoothly. He had no very grave doubts, so far as Enid was concerned, because they had been more or less sweethearts from childhood. But what Farmer would say when Philp proposed to take his only daughter away was quite another matter. And, besides, Philp owed practically everything to the genial old man, who had been more than a father to him.

He had been left alone many years ago, with nothing but a fairly good education and no prospects beyond a clerkship in the office of some Hitherfield solicitor. It was Farmer who had recognised his undoubted talent, and had advanced the money necessary to take him to London and pay his barrister's fees. But for Farmer, he would still be in a subordinate position. He had managed by sheer hard work and some little journalistic talent to pay off the money, and start himself at the Bar. He was doing exceedingly well now, and likely to go very far, but the obligation was still there, and Ivor Philp was not the man to forget it. He was going to see Farmer, if possible, today, and lay the matter frankly before him.