black woman‚ÅÝ‚Äîno other lawyer or sign of one appeared to represent her. The place soon filled with a lazy, tobacco-chewing throng of white men. A few blacks whispered in one corner. The dirty stove was glowing with pinewood and the Judge sat at a desk.
“Where’s your lawyer?” he asked sharply of Zora.
“I have none,” returned Zora, rising.
There came a silence in the court.
Her voice was low, and the men leaned forward to listen.
The Judge felt impelled to be over-gruff.
“Get a lawyer,” he ordered.
“Your honor, my case is simple, and with your honor’s permission I wish to conduct it myself. I cannot afford a lawyer, and I do not think