“Right you are,” said Anthony. “I’ll go ahead. The only thing that worries me is that you’re all of you making it so easy for me. It’s spoiling my character.” He looked up with a smile. Edward was sitting on a corner of his father’s desk swinging his legs. “You’ve been a ripping friend to me ever since you first spoke to me in Bull Lane, the day I fought young Penlove.” He spoke with an emotion unusual to him.
Edward flushed. “There are only two people I really care for,” he said, “you and Betty. But it isn’t only of you I’m thinking. If I come into the business it’ll be jolly our being together. And if not——” He paused.
“What do you mean?” asked Anthony. “You’re not thinking of chucking it? Your father’s reckoning on you. That’s why he’s never taken a partner; he told me so.”
“Of course I shall come into it,” Edward answered, “bar accidents.”
He was looking out of the window. Anthony followed his gaze, but the cold grey square was empty save for a couple of cabs that stood there on the rank.
“But what could happen?” persisted Anthony.
“Oh, nothing,” Edward answered. “It’s only another way of saying ‘Deo volente.’ It used to be added to all public proclamations once upon a time. We’re not as pious as we were.” He took up his hat and stick and held out his hand. “Don’t forget about the books,” he said. “They’re expensive to buy, and I’ve done with most of them.”
Anthony thanked him and they shook hands. They never met again.