So he only said, "If that's so, go ahead.

Locate on Broadway, anywhere between the Battery and Canal Street." Later in the day, when he had time, he shook his head, and said, "Poor devil! Like all the rest." Anywhere between the Battery and Canal Street represented a fairly large range of territory, but Peter went at the matter directly, and for the next three days passed his time climbing stairs, and inspecting rooms and dark cells.

At the end of that time he took a moderate-sized office, far back in a building near Worth Street.

Another day saw it fitted with a desk, two chairs (for Peter as yet dreamed only of single clients) and a shelf containing the few law books that were the monuments of his Harvard law course, and his summer reading.

On the following Monday, when Peter faced his office door he felt a glow of satisfaction at seeing in very black letters on the very newly scrubbed glass the sign of: PETER STIRLING ATTORNEY AND COUNSELLOR-AT-LAW.
He had come to his office early, not merely because at his boarding place they breakfasted betimes, but because he believed that early hours were one way of winning success.