"I wrote about most things in my letters. Pretty rotten
letters I'm afraid." He laughed.
"And now--what do you intend to do now?"
"Oh, I don't know--Look around for a bit."
There was another long pause. Then Mr. Warlock began again. "When I
ask about your life, my boy, I don't mean where you've lived, how
you've earned your living--I do know all that--you've been very good
about writing. But your real life, what you've been thinking about
things, how you feel about everything . . ."
"Well, father--I don't know. One hadn't much time for thinking, you
know. No one did much thinking in Rio. When I was in the Bermudas
there was a fellow . . ."
"Yes, but tell me about yourself."
Then, with a desperate effort, he broke out:
"Father, you'll be badly disappointed in me. I've been feeling it
coming all the time. I can't help it. I'm just like any one else. I
want to have a good time. One's only young once. I'm awfully sorry.
I want to please you in any way I can, but--but--it's all gone--all
that early part. It's simply one's childhood that's finished with."
"And it can't come back ?" his father said quietly.
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