Still, after your father's
message I did not hesitate for a second. Where is he, Edith? Have you
any idea what it is that he wants?"
She shook her head.
"Did he send for you?" she asked.
"Send for me!" Mr. Bomford repeated. "I should rather think he did."
He looked inquiringly towards Burton. Edith introduced them.
"This," she said, "is Mr. Burton, a friend of father's, who is staying
with us for a few days. He is writing a book. Perhaps, if you are very
polite to him, he will let you publish it. Mr. Bomford--Mr. Burton."
The two men shook hands solemnly. Neither of them expressed any
pleasure at the meeting.
"I am sure you would like a drink," Edith suggested. "Let me take you
up to the house and we can find father. You won't mind, Mr. Burton?"
"Not in the least," he assured her.
They disappeared into the house. Burton threw himself once more upon
the lawn, his hands clasped behind his head, gazing upwards through the
leafy boughs to the blue sky. So this was Mr. Bomford! This was the
rival of whom he had heard! Not so very formidable a person, not
formidable at all save for one thing only--he was free to marry her,
free to marry Edith. Burton lay and dreamed in the sunshine.
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