something to aim at," Joan observed, "because after all money is only a means to an end."
"Exactly. Now, I don't in the least anticipate that the heavens will ever open and shower gold down on me," said Keith, "but if they do I shall settle down and finish with roving."
"But I do not think inactivity would appeal to a man of your kind long."
"Good heavens, no!" Keith declared. "I'd go crazy if all I had to do was to count my fingers and read novels. No, my mind is made up on that point. I should buy a farm somewhere back in Maryland, and keep dogs and horses and chickens and pigs. Maybe a practical farmer who had to make a living at the same game would have a fit if he knew how much my farm was costing me every year, but I should be working for pleasure and not for profit, and my object would be to improve the breed of pigs and horses and chickens. I was down in Maryland about eighteen months ago and I saw a place being run by a chap on those very lines. He told me he'd spent twenty years making his fortune by selling pills to relieve a pain in the back, and now his own back ached every day in the week excepting Sundays, with honest farm work, which seemed to tickle his sense of humour."
"You would have a longing at times to feel a deck heaving under you, and smell tarred rope once more," said Joan.
