Natural Villains Are Hard To Come By,

The Law Changes And Flows Like Water, And . . . The Stream Of Women's Rights Law Has Become A Sudden Rushing Torrent.

Rumor And Gossip, Like Sound Itself, Appear To Travel By Wave-effect, Sheer Preposterosity Being No Barrier.

The Federal Building's Large Ceremonial Courtroom, Reserved For Show Trials, Is Veneered In Executive Teak. Bench, Counsel Tables, Jury Boxes, Entrances, And Exits -- All Are As Formally Arranged As An Elizabethan Stage. Only The Drama Is Shapeless, At Least To Those Of Us Who Have Never Seen A Trial Before. We See Only Random Movements, Sequences, Comings And Goings, No Form Or Agenda Apparent. To Us The Action Is Less Like Watching A Play Than Watching An Aquarium.

Between The Two Poles Of Whole-truth And Half-truth Is Slung The Chancy Hammock In Which We All Rock.

I Don’t Believe Man Is Woman’s Natural Enemy. Perhaps His Lawyer Is.