The Burial of the Guns - Paperback

Excerpt: ...a little girl said about you." "What was it?" "I will tell you some day, when I know you better." "Was it a compliment?" "Yes." "Tell me now." "No, wait." He came to know her better; to know her very well. He did not see her very often, but he thought of her a great deal. He seemed to find in her a sympathy which he needed. It reminded him of the past. He awoke from his lethargy; began to work once more in the old way; mixed among men again; grew brighter. "Henry Floyd is growing younger, instead of older," someone said of him. "His health has been bad," said a doctor. "He is improving. I thought at one time he was going to die." "He is getting rich," said a broker, who had been a schoolmate of his. "I see he has just invented a new something or other to relieve children with hip or ankle-joint disease." "Yes, and it is a capital thing, too; it is being taken up by the profession. I use it. It is a curious thing that he should have hit on that when he is not a surgeon. He had studied anatomy as a sort of fad, as he does everything. One of Haile Tabb's boys was bedridden, and he was a great friend of his, and that set him at it." "I don't think he's so much of a crank as he used to be," said someone. The broker who had been his schoolmate met Floyd next day. "I see you have been having a great stroke of luck," he said. "Have I?" "Yes. I see in the papers, that your discovery, or invention, or whatever it was, has been taken up." "Oh! yes