CHAPTER XI
HIS OWN WAY
The winter promised to be a busy one for Selwyn. If at first he had had
any dread of enforced idleness, that worry, at least, vanished before
the first snow flew. For there came to him a secret communication from
the Government suggesting, among other things, that he report, three
times a week, at the proving grounds on Sandy Hook; that experiments
with Chaosite as a bursting charge might begin as soon as he was ready
with his argon primer; that officers connected with the bureau of
ordnance and the marine laboratory had recommended the advisability of
certain preliminary tests, and that the general staff seemed inclined to
consider the matter seriously.
This meant work--hard, constant, patient work. But it did not mean money
to help him support the heavy burdens he had assumed. If there were to
be any returns, all that part of it lay in the future, and the future
could not help him now.
Yet, unless still heavier burdens were laid upon him, he could hold on
for the present; his bedroom cost him next to nothing; breakfast he
cooked for himself, luncheon he dispensed with, and he dined at
random--anywhere that appeared to promise seclusion, cheapness, and
immunity from anybody he had ever known.
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