"Haven't got the energy."
"Hell, man, it don't take much energy to buy a railroad ticket."
"Doesn't it?"
"How's your soft job?"
"I'm going to chuck it soon. I think I'll go to Mexico with you Herb."
"All right, come along. Better learn to shoot though."
"I've had another letter from my father."
"How's he now?"
"Tickled to death."
"Well, that's damn good. I'm damn glad to hear it. You know you oughtn't to be so highbrow about your father. I imagine he's a damn good scout." Roscoe put the rifle up on the rack over the mantel and began to fill a pipe slowly and methodically. "D'you know, I think all this father and son agitation is foolishness, Wendell. You are like your father, we all are, so why fuss about it? Nobody's forcin' you to live with him. But I wouldn't stay on round here. It isn't healthy for you, seeing how you feel about it. I wouldn't stay myself, except for the library."