Do you know that we are going to do
the same thing? We are going to contribute our share to the defilement
of journalism. We are going to make a similar appeal to the quack
instincts of the credulous."
She laughed softly at him.
"You foolish person," she murmured. "Father has been talking to me
about it for hours at a time. You are taking it for granted that they
will not be able to transmit the qualities of the bean into this new
food, but father is sure that they will. Supposing they succeed, why
should you object? Why should not the whole world share in this thing
which has come to you?"
"I do not know," he answered, a little wearily, "and yet nothing seems
to be able to alter the way I feel about it. It seems as though we were
committing sacrilege. Your father and Mr. Bomford, and now this man
Bunsome, are entirely engrossed in the commercial side of it. If it
were to be a gift to the world, a real philanthropic enterprise, it
would be different."
"The world wasn't made for philanthropists, dear," she reminded him.
"We are only poor human beings, and in our days we have to eat and drink
and love."
"If only Mr. Bomford--" he began--
She laid her fingers warningly upon his arm.
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