COKESON. You quite understand-the party was in some distress; and, having children with her, I allowed my feelings——[He opens a drawer and produces from it a tract] Just take this! "Purity in the Home." It's a well-written thing.
FALDER. [Taking it, with a peculiar expression] Thank you, sir.
COKESON. And look here, Falder, before Mr. Walter comes, have you finished up that cataloguing Davis had in hand before he left?
FALDER. I shall have done with it to-morrow, sir—for good.
COKESON. It's over a week since Davis went. Now it won't do, Falder. You're neglecting your work for private life. I shan't mention about the party having called, but——
FALDER. [Passing into his room] Thank you, sir.
COKESON stares at the door through which FALDER has gone out; then shakes his head, and is just settling down to write, when WALTER How comes in through the outer Office. He is a rather refined-looking man of thirty-five, with a pleasant, almost apologetic voice.
WALTER. Good-morning, Cokeson.
COKESON. Morning, Mr. Walter.
WALTER. My father here?