"Yes, darling," said Jack. "And it won't be quite so costly as you think," he added, "because I'm not going into it alone. I've got a partner. Who do you think is joining me?"
"I haven't the faintest notion," Mrs. Harford replied. "But I hope it's an honest man or you'll be robbed. You're as much fitted to run an old book shop alone as I am to—to—well, these are the kind of sentences no one ought ever to begin. One used to say 'to fly' once, but everyone flies now, so there's nothing in it. But you know what I mean. Who is this partner, anyhow?"
"Patrick," said Jack.
"Patrick! Do you mean Mr. St. Quentin?"
"Of course. He's mad about it. And he's got some capital too."
"Well," said Mrs. Harford, "if Mr. St. Quentin thinks it's a good scheme, that's another matter. But only for himself. What is right for him, in his crippled condition, is one thing; what is right for you, is another. Let him run the shop alone, and you go on learning to be a distinguished K.C., there's a dear. Don't be changeable, my boy."
"I'm not really changeable, mother," said Jack. "This is my first departure. And it isn't as if I need slave my way up to success in a profession I don't really care very much for. I've come to the conclusion that I'd far rather be poor in a book shop than rich by pumping up excitement and rage in the interests of clients you can't bear the sight of and probably don't believe in. And I'm fond of books, and, as you know, I adore old Pat and in a way I feel pledged to him too after all our times together in the War; and with his one leg what else could he do? I was with him when he lost it and I feel bound to help."
"I can't agree," said Mrs. Harford, "that for a one-legged man second-hand book selling is the only possible employment, but I'll go so far as to say that I like you to feel like that about him. All the same, I don't see why he should need a partner. An assistant, yes, but why my son as a partner? And also, can there be enough profit in a second-hand book shop to keep two young men?"
"We shan't roll, of course," said Jack, "but we oughtn't to starve, and there's always the chance of picking up a first folio for a few shillings and selling it at its real value. So you will put up a little money, darling, won't you? You wouldn't like me to touch my capital, I know."
"No," said his mother. "I should hate it. All I can say now is that if Mr. Tredegar approves I'll see what I can do. And of course he must be consulted as to the premises you take, the lease, and all that kind of thing. You promise that?"