I didn't go, of course, but I
felt the impulse, nevertheless."
Burton had turned very pale.
"This," he exclaimed, "is terrible! What have you done with the rest of
the beans?"
"I have nine," Mr. Waddington replied. "I carry them in my waistcoat
pocket. I am perfectly convinced now that there is trouble ahead, for
on my way up the stairs here I felt a strong inclination to tell you
that I had lost them, in case you should want any."
"It would be only fair," Burton declared warmly, "to divide them." Mr.
Waddington frowned.
"I see no reason for that at all," he objected, feeling his waistcoat
pocket. "The beans are in my possession."
"But if we are to revert to our former state of barbarism," Burton
urged, "let us at least do so together."
"You are some time ahead of me," Mr. Waddington pointed out. "None of
these warnings have come to you yet. It may be something wrong with my
disposition, or the way I have swallowed my bean. Yours may be a
permanent affair."
Burton hesitated. Then he threw himself into a chair and buried his
face in his hands.
"My time is coming, too!" he confessed mournfully. "I am in the same
position. Even while you were speaking just now, I felt a strong desire
to deceive you, to invent some experience similar to your own.
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