Oh, Mrs Bradley, such fun...but not at all sympathetic to anyone, ...
‘Good Lord indeed!’ said Mrs Bradley, with spirit. ‘I shall find myself in the dock before many weeks are out. You mark my words!’
Carstairs made sympathetic noises, but, as usual, could think of no adequate reply.
‘I shall plead not guilty,’ said Mrs Bradley firmly, ‘and I shall get Ferdinand Lestrange to conduct my case.’
‘He is a very young man, isn’t he?’ said Carstairs doubtfully.
‘He is thirty-nine, and was born on my eighteenth birthday,’ Mrs Bradley promptly replied. ‘Oxford 1908 to 1911, called to the bar in 1914, Great War 1914 to 1917. Invalided out in June, 1917. Now a K.C.’
‘You seem to have followed his career with some minuteness,’ said Carstairs, amused. ‘Well, he is my son,’ was Mrs Bradley’s somewhat startling reply.
...not even towards her own son:
She glanced round the court again. She was pleased to see a full house!
Ferdinand Lestrange, her son, the leading counsel for the defence, looked distinguished, she thought. Nobody there knew she was his mother. Ferdinand wouldn’t care a hang whether she were convicted or not, except in so far as his professional reputation was concerned, but he would take care not to let that suffer!