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to put the whole rim of the world between me and those hills, and be able to breathe freely once more! [He sinks down into his chair and smiles with bitter self-scorn.] There I go dreaming again—my old fool dreams.

—[In a low, repressed voice—her eyes smoldering.] You’re not the only one!

—[Buried in his own thoughts—bitterly.] And Andy, who’s had the chance—what has he got out of it? His letters read like the diary of a—of a farmer! “We’re in Singapore now. It’s a dirty hole of a place and hotter than hell. Two of the crew are down with fever and we’re short-handed on the work. I’ll be damn glad when we sail again, although tacking back and forth in these blistering; seas is a rotten job too!” [Scornfully.] That’s about the way he summed up his impressions of the East. Every port they touched at he found the same silly fault with God! The only place he appeared to like was Buenos Aires—and that only because he saw the business opportunities in a booming country like Argentine.

—[Her repressed voice trembling.] You needn’t make fun of Andy.

—Perhaps I am too hard on him; but when I think—but what’s the use? You know I wasn’t making fun of Andy personally. No one loves him better than I do, the old chump! But his attitude toward things is—is rank, in my estimation.

—[Her eyes flashing—bursting into uncon-