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Edith swung herself on to her feet. Considering her late laments, the dismay in her tone was a little astonishing. "It is Mr. Bomford!" she cried. Burton sighed with relief. "I am glad to hear that it is human," he murmured. "I thought that it was a Wells nightmare or that something from underground had been let loose." She shot an indignant glance at him. Her greeting of Mr.
The money can simply keep you while you write, or help you to travel." "It will lead that other fellow," he groaned, "into no end of mischief." The professor and Mr. Bomford returned. They talked for a little time together and then the party broke up. As they waited for Edith to get her cloak, Burton spoke the few words which they were both longing to hear. "Mr.
Bomford told long and pointless stories with much effort and the air of a man who would have made himself agreeable if he could. Edith leaned back in her chair, eating very little, her eyes large, her cheeks pale. She made her escape as soon as possible and Burton watched her with longing eyes as he passed out into the cool darkness. He half rose, indeed, to follow her, but his host and Mr.
Bomford, you told me only a few days ago, is a scientist, an Egyptologist, a philosopher. Why should he not be interested in the same things which interest your father?" "It is quite true," she admitted. "I had not thought of that."
He moved to the fireplace and gazed down at the charred remnants of his novel. The boy continued to howl. It had been a dinner of celebration. The professor had ransacked his cellar and produced his best wine. He had drunk a good deal of it himself so had Mr. Bomford. A third visitor, Mr.
"Miss Edith was speaking of asking a visitor a Mr. Bomford down for the week-end," Burton explained suavely. "I somehow felt that I should not like him. In any case, I have been here for a week and I really ought " "Edith will do nothing of the sort," the professor declared, sharply. "Do you hear that, Edith? No one is to be asked here at all. Mr.
"I shall do as I said. I shall ask Mr. Bomford down for the week-end." "Then I shall go back to London," he pronounced, firmly. A shadow fell across the grass. "What's that what's that?" the professor demanded, anxiously. They both looked up quickly. The professor had just put in one of his unexpected appearances. He had a habit of shuffling about in felt slippers which were altogether inaudible.
Bomford may probably pay us a passing visit at any time, and you must be content with that." Edith sighed. She contemplated the tips of her shoes for some moments. "I do seem to be in trouble to-day," she remarked, "first with Mr. Burton and then with you." The professor turned unsympathetically away. "You know perfectly well how to keep out of it," he said, making his way toward the house.
Between them the professor sat, with his arms still folded, a benevolent yet pensive smile upon his lips. "I have decided," Edith remarked, stopping the swinging of the hammock with her foot, "to write and ask Mr. Bomford to come and spend the week-end here." Burton shook his head. "Please don't think of it," he begged. "It would completely upset me.
There was something, even then, which kept me from being with them while I looked, and I know that at that moment, at the moment I looked up and met your eyes, I know that there was no vulgar thought in my heart." "Dear," she said, "with every word you make me the more inclined to persist. I honestly believe that father and Mr. Bomford are right. It is your duty.
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