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 "How can I tell you? I don't know myself why I cover it up. It's instinctive. I'm afraid to let anyone see what's inside. I—I have an idea they're going to think it's a joke, or something. Inhibited, Peg. That's me all over."

"I think it's a shame," said Peg.

"Why?"

"Why? Why not?" She sat bolt upright, excitedly. "Because it isn't fair! It's not fair to you yourself, that's why! If people who don't amount to much can pretend they do and put it over successfully, more power to 'em, I say. But for a person who does amount to something to make out he doesn't is—is—" She stopped, groping for the word. Not finding it, she relapsed again on to the pillows. "You're just a natural damn fool," she finished.

Jock roared. "Good Lord, Peg, but I don't amount to anything! You're"

"And he won't even admit it to me!" sighed Peg. She sat up again, wagging a denunciatory finger. "Last night at dinner mother said, 'We have tickets for the Symphony, don't you three want to go?' I peeked over at you, and your face was all lit up like a new saloon. And then Bones said, 'Hell, no, we're going with a bunch out to Canter Inn.' Business of glim-dousing, and Mr. Hamill's countenance returns to normalcy. And what happens then? Why, you go to Canter Inn, and foxtrot till three, and drink rotten booze out of a teacup, and pretend you're having the time of your life! Trouble is, Jock, you lack the courage of your convictions. Why couldn't you have come right out and said, 'I'd rather go to the Symphony'?"

"Oh, that," said Jock, "that was just silly. Music happens to be a weakness of mine, that's all." He