"It's what the theatrical people call a financial backer. He dropped a
hint of something of that kind."
"Of course, he's got an Angel," said his wife, promptly adopting the
word. "And even if he hadn't, still, Basil, I should be willing to have
you risk it. The risk isn't so great, is it? We shouldn't be ruined if it
failed altogether. With our stocks we have two thousand a year, anyway,
and we could pinch through on that till you got into some other business
afterward, especially if we'd saved something out of your salary while it
lasted. Basil, I want you to try it! I know it will give you a new lease
of life to have a congenial occupation." March laughed, but his wife
persisted. "I'm all for your trying it, Basil; indeed I am. If it's an
experiment, you can give it up."
"It can give me up, too."
"Oh, nonsense! I guess there's not much fear of that. Now, I want you to
telegraph Mr. Fulkerson, so that he'll find the despatch waiting for him
when he gets to New York. I'll take the whole responsibility, Basil, and
I'll risk all the consequences."