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Updated: June 1, 2025
"I think my mother and I ought to be left to judge for ourselves," he said rather hotly. "We haven't asked anybody for money yet, Uncle Archie. Burdon and Co. can have me in September just as well as now; and my mother wished me to make some friends over here who might be useful to me." "Useful to you. How?" "I think that's my affair.
"No, really, dear, I wouldn't," continued Mary. "Of course you know he's a terrible flirt. Why he can't even leave the girls at the office alone." Quite unconsciously Helen adopted the immemorial formula. "Burdon Woodward has always acted to me like a perfect gentleman," said she. "Of course he has, dear. If he hadn't, I know you wouldn't have gone out with him last night, for instance.
Perhaps you remember Burdon, the tall, dark young man who "smelled nice" and wore a white edging on the V of his waistcoat. As far back as Mary could remember him, he had appealed to her imagination.
"There, Burdon!" he said; "we've buried the incubus safely. Now you can sleep in peace." It's curious how things get forgotten by busy people.
She feared that Haddo had returned. But it was Arthur Burdon. She greeted him with a passionate relief that was unusual, for she was by nature a woman of great self-possession. She felt excessively weak, physically exhausted as though she had gone a long journey, and her mind was highly wrought.
Whenever a sudden light, a kind of smile, came into his eyes, I knew that it was at some ancient memory, a touch of quaintness or humour in some farmer or shepherd he had known in the vanished time his father, perhaps, or old John, or Mark Dick, or Liddy, or Dan'l Burdon, the solemn seeker after buried treasure.
"He is your own son, Sir John, your own son; and it is that wretched woman who has driven him mad." "Mad? Burdon, mad? No; it is something worse." "But it is not too late," I said humbly. "Yes, too late too late! I disown him. He is no longer son of mine."
The room was full when Arthur Burdon entered, but Margaret had kept him an empty seat between herself and Miss Boyd. Everyone was speaking at once, in French, at the top of his voice, and a furious argument was proceeding on the merit of the later Impressionists. Arthur sat down, and was hurriedly introduced to a lanky youth, who sat on the other side of Margaret.
"She'll go in now to get those checks," thought Helen, as the car started up the hill, and it was just then that Mary started to warn her about going out so much with Burdon. Once in the night Helen awoke and lay for a long time looking at the silhouette of the windows. "...I wonder what they said to each other...." she thought.
"Somehow she heard they were here," thought Mary, "and she came down thinking to meet them. She thought surely I would bring them in here again." But her next reflection made her frown a little. " Partly that, I guess," she thought, "and partly to see Burdon, as usual." A knock on the door interrupted her, and Joe entered, bearing two cards.
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