"Tell that to the men who really work. I'm getting off easy, to cut and run at the end of six hours."
"Rich—" began his friend, then he paused. "By the Lord Harry, I'd like to know what's got you. I can't make you and the old Rich fit together at all. You and your books—you and your music—and your pictures—your polo—your 'wine, women, and song'—"
"Take that last back," commanded Richard Kendrick, with sudden heat. "You know I've never gone in for that sort of thing, except as all our old crowd went in together. Personally, I haven't cared for it, and you know it. It's travel and adventure I've cared for—"
"And that you're throwing over now for a country shop."
"That I'm throwing over now to learn the ABC in the training school of responsibility for the big load that's to come on my shoulders. I've been asleep all these years. Thank Heaven I've waked up in time. It's no merit of mine—"
"Mind telling me whose it is, then?"
"I should mind, very much—if you'll excuse me."
"Oh—beg pardon," drawled Lorimer.
Silence followed for a brief space, broken by Richard's voice, in its old, genial tone.
"Tell me more about the cruise. It's great that you can have your father's yacht. I thought he always used it through the summer."