"Wild!" repeated Dr. Scott, and still again, "Wild!"
Again Dr. Lister started upon a promenade through the parlor where Basil had walked, past the old piano, under the old portraits.
When he came back to the study, Dr. Scott had ceased reading.
"I forgot my glasses," said he. "I've read myself almost blind. And anyway, I can't read any more. Two hours of this is like two hours of Euripides; it takes life out of you. Was he really here, in this house, in Waltonville?" Dr. Scott drew the word out to a dreary length.
"Do you think anything can be made of them?"
"My dear Lister! You know and I know that they can be published as they stand. There are lines which might be annotated, but that is all. They are unique, priceless. They help to redeem the nation from charges such as Utterly's. He was right about them in the wildest of his extravagance."
Dr. Lister thrust his hands into his pockets.
"It would help Mrs. Lister to see that they should be published if—"
"She will surely publish them with pride and joy!"
"I didn't mean that exactly as it sounded. I mean, she would, I am sure, be glad if you would arrange to select, to edit—that is if—when they are published."