Can't be reached before the November term.

Set it for November 11th." "Very well, Your Honor." Then he turned with a wide grin to his clients.

"That's all until November." Out they filed through the narrow aisle of the court room, Fairchild's knee brushing the trouser leg of Squint Rodaine as they passed.

At the door, the attorney turned toward them, then put forth a hand.
"Drop in any day this week and we 'll go over things," he announced cheerfully.

"We put one over on his royal joblots that time, anyway.
Hates me from the ground up.