"I remember," he said. "Last night I didn't think he would care about
it. I find I was mistaken."
Mr. Bunsome looked at his watch.
"I am meeting Mr. Cowper this afternoon," he said, "and Mr. Bomford.
I know that the greatest difficulty that we have to face at present is
the very minute specimens of this wonderful--er--vegetable, from which
we have to prepare the food. I should think it very likely that we
might be able to offer you an interest in return for your beans. Will
you call at my office, Mr. Waddington, at ten o'clock to-morrow
morning--number 17, Norfolk Street?"
"With pleasure," Mr. Waddington assented. "Have a drink?"
Mr. Bunsome did not hesitate--it was not his custom to refuse any offer
of the sort! He sat down at their table and ordered a sherry and
bitters. Mr. Waddington seemed to have expanded. He did not mention
the subject of architecture. More than once Mr. Bunsome glanced with
some surprise at Burton. The young man completely puzzled him. They
talked about Menatogen and its possibilities, and Burton kept harking
back to the subject of profits. Mr. Bunsome at last could contain his
curiosity no longer.
"Say," he remarked, "you had a headache or something the other night, I
think? Seemed as quiet as they make 'em down at the old professor's.
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