Page:Harvey O'Higgins--Don-a-dreams.djvu/264

 "You haven't decided how?"

"No."

"Do you appreciate the difficulty of making an honest living for a wife and family in a city where you have no friends, no relatives? You are starting out, here, like a man in a new country, and you are leaving behind you, in Coulton, all the assistance that would make the way easy for you."

"I understand all that. I can't go back to Coulton." Mr. Gregg sprang the next question like a trap: "Who is the young woman?"

Don did not answer.

"Is it Miss Morris?" He flushed resentfully.

"Do you think she would sooner have you on the stage than in some honest employment? . . . Do you think she would be happier here than in Coulton? . . . Do you?"

Don put down his pipe and stood up to face his father. "What's the use?" he said wildly. "What's the use of all this? I couldn't make you understand if we were to keep this up forever. You don't The things that are important to you, to Coulton, I don't care that for." He tossed them away with his bony hand. "The things that make up my life—if I were to tell you—you'd laugh at me. Why can't you leave me alone? Why can't you go away and leave me alone?"

"Because, unfortunately, you're my son. Because your mother worries herself sick about you. Because she's ill and weak, and this is killing her. Because"—he raised his voice in a trembling passion—"you owe