The Foot of Time: A Novel of Australia and the South Seas: (1933)

86 THE FOOT OF TIME
"Really? Oh, I see. He doesn't live with Mrs.
Swinton any more?"
"No. Mother divorced him, Edith."
"Good gracious! I suppose he was one of those
naughty men." Edith threw off her manner of
slight banter. She grew more serious. "How terribly
sad for your mother, though," she said. "She
is such a dear. I love her. Oh, so that's what makes
her manner so—so—not exactly sad but—well, I
can't explain it, but now I can understand it
better."
A fit of sudden passionate temper swept over the
boy. "My father was a swine and a blackguard,"
he declared. "Sometimes I think I could kill him.
Perhaps one of these days I will."
"Perhaps if you met him he might prove one too
many for you, Bruce. I don't mean physically, but,
in spite of yourself, you might love him—have to
love him—like I have to love stupid, common, old
Daddy. What is your father like—to look at, I
mean?"
"I have never seen him."
"Oh!"
"Mother sued for a divorce in India, then came
post haste to Australia."
"Yes?" said Edith eagerly. The story was intriguing
her interest. "Tell me all about it, Bruce."
"It was only after she reached Australia, you see,
that she knew."
"Knew she was going to have a baby, Bruce?"
The mention of the word sent a wave of
passion through him. He drew the girl to him
THE FOOT OF TIME 87
again and kissed her passionately. "Oh, you darling!"
he said. "How you understand!"
But Edith Burne pushed Bruce gently from her.
Everything in its proper order. This was story-
telling time, not meant for love-making of that
kind.
Something inside him told the boy that he had
made a psychological mistake in kissing her again
just then. He must be careful, he mustn't be too
sure of her.
"Go on, Bruce; I'm listening."
"Father doesn't know—doesn't know of my
existence."
"Good Heavens, Bruce! Whatever would he say,
I wonder, if he knew? But I suppose he never will
know."
"That's the point. That is what I wanted to
tell you about. He—you see, my father is a
baronet. I am his only son. He's frightfully, vulgarly
wealthy, and—and —"
And what, Bruce?"
"Mother still loves him, Edith."
"Yes, I think I can understand that."
"There, I knew you would understand."
"Yes—wait a minute, though. It does compli-
cate things rather, doesn't it? But—isn't your name
Swinton, then?"
"Mother and I don't know."
"Who is your father, then?"
The boy told her who his father was, told her a
little more of the story. How, even while his
mother was living a bride in Darjeeling Sir Bruce