irritable every day. Oh, Rob, you’ve no idea how hard it is living there alone with her in that big lonely house. It’s enough to drive anyone mad. If only Pa was still living——— [She stops as if ashamed of her outburst.] I suppose I shouldn’t complain this way. I wouldn’t to any one but you. [She sighs.] Poor Ma, Lord knows it’s hard enough for her—having to be wheeled around in a chair ever since I was born. I suppose it’s natural to be cross when you’re not able ever to walk a step. But why should she be in a temper with me all the time? Oh, I’d like to be going away some place—like you!
Robert—It’s hard to stay—and equally hard to go, sometimes.
Ruth—There! If I’m not the stupid body! I swore I wasn’t going to speak about your trip—until after you’d gone; and there I go, first thing!
Robert—Why didn’t you want to speak of it?
Ruth—Because I didn’t want to spoil this last night you’re here. Oh, Rob, I’m going to—we’re all going to miss you so awfully. Your mother is going around looking as if she’d burst out crying any minute. You ought to know how I feel. Andy and you and I—why it seems as if we’d always been together.
Robert—[With a wry attempt at a smile.] You and Andy will still have each other. It’ll be harder for me without anyone.
Ruth—But you’ll have new sights and new people to take your mind off; while we’ll be here with the
