"Never!" Martin's voice was almost a cry as though he were defying
something.
"We are very weak against God's will," his father said, still
quietly as though it were not he that was speaking but some voice in
the shadow behind him. "You are not your own master, Martin."
"I am my own master," Martin answered passionately. "I have been my
own master for ten years. I've not done anything very fine with my
life, I know. I'm just like any one else--but I've found my feet. I
can look after myself against anybody and I'm independent--of every
one and of everything."
His father drew a little closer to him.
"Of course," he said, "I was not so foolish as to expect that you
would come back to us just as you left us. I know that you must have
your own life--and be free--so much as any of us are free at
all . . ." Then after a little pause. "What are your plans? What are
you going to do?"
"Well," answered Martin, hesitating, "I haven't exactly settled, you
know. I might take a small share in some business, go into the City.
Then at other times I feel I shouldn't like being cooped up in a
town after the life I've led.
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