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[Hard and defiant himself]

Yes.

[In a rage—tremblingly]

Then—here’s what—I think of you!

[Beginning to cry, he breaks off the mast, bowsprit, breaks the mast in two, tears the rigging off and throws the dismantled hull at feet]

There! You can keep it!

[His anger overcoming him for an instant]

You—you mean little devil, you! You don’t get that from me—

[He has taken a threatening step forward. stands white-faced, defying him. pulls himself up short—then in a trembling voice of deeply wounded affection]

You shouldn’t have done that, son. What difference do I make? It was never my boat. But it was your boat. You should consider the boat, not me. Don’t you like boats for themselves? It was a beautiful little boat, I thought. That’s why I—

[Sobbing miserably]

It was awful pretty! I didn’t want to do it!

[He kneels down and gathers up the boat into his arms again]

Honest I didn’t. I love boats! But I hate you!

[This last with passionate intensity]