Turner glanced at him and gave a thick chuckle in his throat.
“Thank you,” he said. “Very decent of you. And that point being established, I will explain further, that I am not here of my own free will. I am only an agent. No man in his senses would come to Farlingford in mid-winter unless—” he broke off, with a sharp sigh, and glanced down at Miriam’s slipper resting on the fender, “unless he was much younger than I am. I came because I was paid to do it. Came to make you a proposition.”
“To make me a proposition?” inquired Loo, as the identity of Turner’s hearers had become involved.
“Yes. And I should recommend you to give it your gravest consideration. It is one of the most foolish propositions, from the proposer’s point of view, that I have ever had to make. I should blush to make it, if it were any use blushing, but no one sees blushes on my cheeks now. Do not decide in a hurry—sleep on it. I always sleep on a question.”
He closed his eyes, and seemed about to compose himself to slumber then and there.
“I am no longer young,” he admitted, after a pause, “and therefore propose to take one of the few alleviations allowed to advancing years and an increasing avoirdupois. I am going to give you some advice. There is only one thing worth having in this life, and that is happiness. Even the possibility of it is worth all other possibilities put together. If a man have a chance of grasping happiness—I mean a home and the wife he wants.... and all that—he is wise to throw all other chances to the wind. Such, for instance, as the chance of greatness, of fame or wealth, of gratified vanity or satisfied ambition.”
He had spoken slowly, and at last he ceased speaking, as if overcome by a growing drowsiness. A queer silence followed this singular man’s words. Barebone had not resumed his seat. He was standing by the mantelpiece, as he often did, being quick and eager when interested, and not content to sit still and express himself calmly in words, but must needs emphasise his meaning by gestures and a hundred quick movements of the head.
“Go on,” he said. “Let us have the proposition.”
“And no more advice?”
Loo glanced at Miriam. He could see all three faces where he stood, but only by the light of the fire. Miriam was nearest to the hearth. He could see that her eyes were aglow—possibly with anger.