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She was spared further bulletins on the state of health of the wounded until her father returned from his daily call the next morning. She was in the living-room and she knew by his step on the porch, vigorous yet light, that he was uplifted by good news or by the anticipation of the exploitation of some new idea a pleasure second only to that of the idea's birth.
Can't you tell us where you went?" "I wandered around, up and down the down-town streets. That was all." "Well, remember," Bristow cautioned him. "If you can produce two or three people who saw you down there, it may help you a whole lot." "Oh, that's all right, I haven't done anything against the law. The idea's absurd." "Mr. Bristow's right," Greenleaf put in.
Bunting? Well, things almost as funny as that 'ud be have come to pass." He smiled as if the notion was a funny one. "Yes, something o' that sort," muttered Bunting. "Well, if your idea's correct, Mr. Bunting " "I never said 'twas my idea," said Bunting, all in a hurry. "Well, if that idea's correct then, 'twill make our task more difficult than ever.
She had never been quite satisfied to leave him without a word; whatever he was, he was still her father. She put her darning on her knee, and looked at him gravely. "You know Bob is demobilized, don't you, Papa?" "Yes he told me so," Mark Rainham answered. "And you know he wants to take me away?" Her father's eyes wavered and fell before her. "Oh, yes but the idea's ridiculous, I'm afraid.
That it only needed a word of mine to put everything between us on a different basis? I couldn't get rid of that idea. It kept nagging at me. But after what you told me last night and you certainly told it straight that idea's exploded. What you said explains everything about you. I know now that I haven't a chance in the world. From now on, I imagine, I'll be able to treat you like a human being.
For reason doth not dictate to us, that what we see or imagine so, is true: But it dictates, that all our Idea's or notions ought to have some grounds of truth; For it were not possible, that God who is all perfect, and all truth, should have put them in us without that: And because that our reasonings are never so evident, nor so entire while we sleep, as when we wake, although sometimes our imaginations be then as much or more lively and express.
"All right, then, don't!" she exclaimed, turning away. "I know there'd be nothing in it, anyway." He followed her across the room. Airily he said: "Is that so? Well, just to prove that there is something in it, I will tell you. Of course I shouldn't really expect to do it but the idea's there just the same." "Well what is it?" she asked, stopping in her work to listen.
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