“Dr. Rich, when I say make love, I mean for the next fifty years, but so help me God, it shall never be unwelcome love.”
The old scholar laid a hand on his shoulder.
“In such matters, my boy, you are an open book that any man may read. But it can’t be three hours since you met her.”
“Yes, it sounds like a freshman.”
“Not necessarily. Landor was thirty-six when he first met his wife. He vowed that she was the nicest girl in the room and that he’d marry her. He did so within six weeks, and lived to repent. But Jean’s father first met his wife when he was forty-six, and married her within a week, and has warmed his hands by that immortal fire till this very hour. How old are you?”
“Twenty-six, sir.”
“Just the age of the son I lost.”
“Dr. Rich, she told me. If you could find it in your heart to let me try to take his place so long as we both shall live, you’d make up to me for all my disappointments.”
“In what have you been disappointed?”
“I have wished to study the innermost nature of matter. Instead I must earn my living as a chemical engineer.”