“I told him seventy-five. He seemed contented.”
“He would have been contented if you had said seven hundred and fifty.” Then, to discountenance any criticism of her father's intelligence, she added: “He is a very famous biologist, you know. The people about here don't understand those things, but in London, in Paris, in Berlin, he is easily one of the greatest men alive. He is carrying the Mendelian theory to its absolute, logical conclusion.”
“He said something about that to me,” Anthony commented; “it seemed to upset him.”
A cloud appeared upon her countenance; then, coldly, “That will do,” she told him.
Once more in the informal garage he lit the gas jet on either wall, and, in the bubbling, watery light, found the automobile caked with mud and grease, the tires flat, the wires charred and the cylinders coated with carbon. A pair of old canvas trousers were hanging from a nail, and, donning them and connecting a length of hose to a convenient faucet, he began the task of putting the machine in order. It was past eleven when he finished for the night, and mounting with cramped and stiffened muscles to his room, he fell into immediate slumber.
XXXIV
ON the following morning he wrote a brief, reassuring note to his father; then, over another page, hesitated with poised pen. “Dear Eliza,” he finally began, then once more fell into indecision. “I wish I were back on the Wingo-hocking with you,” he embarked. “That was splendid, having you in the canoe, with no one else; the whole world seemed empty except for you and me. It's no joke of an emptiness without you.
I have been delayed in reaching California, but I'll soon be out there now, working like thunder for our wedding.