"No, not ezackly a fortune! There was
a place I 'eard of, right up in the Basque country--'twas an old deserted
garden, where zey 'ad buried treasure, centuries ago--I 'ad it quite
certainly from a friend. We came up there for a time but we found nothing."
He sighed and then was instantly cheered again. "But it's all right. I've
got a plan now--a wonderful plan." He became very mysterious. "It's a
certain thing--we're off to Cornwall, Mr. Brant and myself--"
"Cornwall?"
"Come too, Peter."
"Ah! don't I wish that I could!" He suddenly saw his life, his
books--everything in London holding him, tying him--"But I can't go now, my
father being there makes it impossible. But in any case, I'm a family man
now--you know."
As he said the words he was conscious that, in Stephen's eyes at any rate,
the family man was about the last thing that he looked. He was wondering,
with intense curiosity, what were the things that Stephen was finding in
him, for the things that Stephen found were most assuredly the things that
he was. No one knew him as Stephen knew him. Against his will the thought
of Clare came driving upon him. How little she knew him! or was it only
that she knew another side of him?
But he pulled himself away from that. "Now for the nursery--Stephen
Secundus. But you'll have to support me whilst I get rid of Mrs.
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