"Yes, yes, Glen. But if I marry you, that will be the end. You're too much a part of the old life—"
"The old life, Indiana? Isn't that the best life?"
"Not for me."
"You don't know what you're saying. If I live to be a hundred, I want to live true to the old life, to the old ideals and the old truths, even the simple ones I learned at home, when I was a little lad."
"You're a good fellow, Glen; shake hands with me!"
"Won't you think about it, Indiana?"
"No, dear! I hate to say it—but I want to be straight with you. Something tells me it's not the right thing for us to marry. Don't say any more—don't try to persuade me—it's no use."
"All right, Indiana."
"Don't look like that, Glen! you'll break my heart. Life isn't over for you, because—of this. It's a beautiful world still—look at the blossoms, look at the day!"
"It's not the same," said Glen, holding his hand to his eyes. "It'll never be the same."