"I saw your Uncle Amzi to-day and had a long talk with him about you. I
proposed that you go to his house and stay, at least until I get through
my work with the Sycamore Company. We won't make any definite date for
your return, for the reason that I don't just know when I'll be free to
settle down here again. Amzi was perfectly agreeable to the idea--quite
splendid about it, in fact. Your mother, it seems, means to stay with
him. And now there's this further thing, Phil. You won't mind my going
into it a little bit, once and for all. The law gave you to me long
ago, but apart from that I suppose I have a certain moral claim to you.
But I want you to feel free to do as you like where your mother's
concerned. What I said of her yesterday I'm sorry for; I shouldn't have
done that if I'd been myself. And I'm not making it necessary for you to
make a choice between us. We're old comrades, you and I, Phil, and there
can't be any shadow of a difference between us, now or ever. It's the
simplest and easiest thing for you to go to your uncle's house, and we
won't even consider the fact that your mother is there; we'll just
assume that her being there is the most natural thing in the world, and
that it's a matter of our common convenience for you to be there, too.
You see how perfectly easy and natural it all comes about."
She clung to him, the tears welling. She had never been disappointed in
him, and this generosity moved her deeply. He was making it easy for her
to go to her mother; that was all. Her soul rebelled against the fate
that made necessary any choice when her father was so gentle, so wise,
so kind, and her mother so transcendently charming and lovable.
"You are so good to me; you have always been so good!" she sobbed. "And
I'm sorry I was ugly yesterday, about Nan. You know I love Nan. No one
was ever kinder to me than Nan--hardly you, even! And I don't want you
to give her up; you need each other; you do understand each other! Oh,
everything is so queer and wrong!"
"No, Phil; things are not as queer and wrong as they look. Don't get
that idea into your head. Life isn't queer or wrong; life simply isn't
as easy as it looks, and that's very different."
He smiled, turning her face so that she could see that he smiled not
unhappily.
"But I don't want you to go away; I'd die if I thought I shouldn't see
you any more--and all the good times we've had, right here in this old
house--and everything--"
"But this isn't the end of things. When I'm back, as I shall be for a
day or two frequently, I'll always let you know; or you can run over to
the city and do a theater with me whenever you like. So let's be
cheerful about everything."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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