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Updated: September 23, 2025
Edith went slowly back to the house. Burton watched her disappear. The professor and Mr. Bomford drew their chairs a little closer. The professor cleared his throat. "Mr. Burton," he began, "Mr. Bomford and I have a proposition to lay before you. May I beg for your undivided attention?" Burton withdrew his eyes from the French window through which Edith had vanished.
"At the present moment," Burton continued, moving a little on one side, "they are probably in the dining-room drinking Hock and seltzer, and your father is explaining to your fiancé the phenomenon of my experiences. I wonder whether he will believe them?" "Mr. Bomford," she said, "will believe anything that my father tells him." "Are you very much in love?" Burton asked, irrelevantly.
He withdrew with a little nod and a smile. Mr. Bomford watched him pass into the inner room, with his mouth open. "God bless my soul, Burton!" he exclaimed. "What an extraordinary child!" Burton laughed, a little hoarsely.
Indirectly you will be the cause of marvelous discoveries, enlightening discoveries, being made as to the source of some of that older civilization which still bewilders the student of prehistoric days." Mr. Bomford had less to say but he was quite as emphatic. "If you only think hard enough, Mr. Burton," he declared, "you can't make a mistake."
The caretaker who admitted him to Burton's rooms sighed as she let him in. He represented exactly her ideal of a gentleman. "Mr. Burton and the little boy are both in the sitting-room, sir," she announced, opening the door. "A gentleman to see you, sir." Burton looked up from his writing-table for a moment somewhat vaguely. Mr. Bomford, who had withdrawn his glove, held out his hand.
I am myself entirely and absolutely convinced as to the justice of the cause I plead. I want you to reconsider your decision of the other night." Burton shook his head. "I am afraid," he said, uneasily, "that that is not possible." Mr. Bomford cleared his throat. He was only externally a fool. "Mr. Burton," he declared, "you are an artist. Your child has the makings of a great artist.
Not at any time during the dinner was the slightest allusion made to that last heated interview which had taken place between the three men. Even when they sat out in the palm court afterwards, and smoked and listened to the band and watched the people, Mr. Bomford only distantly alluded to it. "I want to ask you, Mr.
Burton groaned. "They are talking about me I can tell it by their furtive manner. Mr. Bomford has heard the whole story. He is a little incredulous but he wishes to be polite to his future father-in-law. What a pity that I could not have a relapse while he is here!" "Couldn't you?" she exclaimed. "It would be such fun!" Burton shook his head. "Nothing but the truth," he declared sadly. Mr.
Bomford continued, "has been much upset since your hasty departure from Leagate. She is conscious of some mistake some foolish speech." Burton drew a little sigh of relief. After all, what he had feared was not coming. He saw the flaw, he felt even now the revulsion of feeling with which her words had inspired him. Yet the other things remained. She was still wonderful.
"It is the opportunity to surround yourself with beautiful objects, the opportunity to make your life free from anxieties, a cultured phase of being during which, removed from all material cares, you can er develop yourself and the boy in any direction you choose." Mr. Bomford stopped and coughed. Again he was pleased with himself. "Money is only vulgar," he went on, "to vulgar minds.
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