"I tell you," he said, "that it's all the world to me. And so would it
be to you, if--"
"Oh, Lord! don't become Salvation Army.... Seen Cathcart yet?"
"No. I haven't the least wish to see Cathcart."
Morton rose, put his pens in the drawer, locked it; slid half a dozen
papers into a black tin box, locked that too, and went towards his
coat and hat, all in silence.
As he went out he turned on the threshold.
"When's that man coming back from Ireland?" he said.
"Who? Vincent? Oh! another month yet. We're going to have another try
when he comes."
"Try? What at?"
"Materialization," said Laurie. "That's to say--"
"I don't want to know what the foul thing means."
He still paused, looking hard at the boy. Then he sniffed.
"A young fool," he said. "I repeat it.... Lock up when you come....
Good night."
_Chapter X_
I
Mrs. Baxter possessed one of the two secrets of serenity. The other
need not be specified; but hers arose from the most pleasant and most
human form of narrow-mindedness. As has been said before, when things
did not fit with her own scheme, either they were not things, but only
fancies of somebody inconsiderable, or else she resolutely disregarded
them.
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