Whenever
I think of her in the future, I will see her as she was to-night. But I
can't face the crowd just yet. Could you spare me a few days?"
"It is only ten days until you were to go north for the summer, go now."
"I don't want to go north. I don't want to meet people I know. There,
the story would precede me. I do not need pitying glances or rough
condolences. I wonder if I could not hide at Uncle Ed's in Wisconsin for
awhile?"
The book closed suddenly. The father leaned across the table and looked
into the son's eyes.
"Phil, are you sure of what you just have said?"
"Perfectly sure!"
"Do you think you are in any condition to decide to-night?"
"Death cannot return to life, father. My love for Edith Carr is dead. I
hope never to see her again."
"If I thought you could be certain so soon! But, come to think of it,
you are very like me in many ways. I am with you in this. Public scenes
and disgraces I would not endure. It would be over with me, were I in
your position, that I know."
"It is done for all time," said Philip Ammon. "Let us not speak of it
further."
"Then, Phil," the father leaned closer and looked at the son tenderly,
"Phil, why don't you go to the Limberlost?"
"Father!"
"Why not? No one can comfort a hurt heart like a tender woman; and,
Phil, have you ever stopped to think that you may have a duty in the
Limberlost, if you are free? I don't know! I only suggest it.
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