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old, familiar place to remind us every minute of the day. It’s a shame you’re going—just at this time, in spring, when everything is getting so nice. [With a sigh.] I oughtn’t to talk that way when I know going’s the best thing for you—on account of your health. The sea trip’s bound to do you so much good, everyone says.

—[WihWith [sic] a half-resentful grimacgrimace [sic].] Don’t tell me you think I’m a hopeless invalid, too! I’ve heard enough of that talk from the folks. Honestly, Ruth, I feel better than I ever did in my life. I’m disgustingly healthy. I wouldn’t even consider my health an excuse for this trip.

—[Vaguely.] Of course you’re bound to find all sorts of opportunities to get on, your father says.

—[Heatedly.] I don’t give a damn about that! I wouldn’t take a voyage across the road for the best opportunity in the world of the kind Pa thinks of. I’d run away from it instead. [He smiles at his own irritation.] Excuse me, Ruth, for getting worked up over it; but Andy gave me an overdose of the practical considerations.

—[Slowly puzzled.] Well, then, if it isn’t any of those reasons [With sudden intensity.] Oh, Rob, why do you want to go?

—[Turning to her quickly, in surprise—slowly.] Why do you ask that, Ruth?

—[Dropping her eyes before his searching glance.] Because [Lamely.] It seems such a shame.