The old man looked at her tolerantly. “You may be wise for your years, my dear. But I think I know better.”
Peggy held her ground. “No,” she said. “The point is, you’ve got to want to come back. There’s got to be some reason.”
Tom Agate shrugged. “Maybe. But you see, I don’t think I want to.”
“Why not?” demanded Peggy.
Tom frowned slightly. “You ask too many questions.”
“Oh, Mr. Agate,” Peggy said, “I don’t want to pry into your personal life. That’s what I told Johnny Dwyer this morning. I’m sure you had a good reason to leave the stage. But don’t you think it’s time to reconsider?”
Tom returned to his stool. “All right, Miss Lane,” he said. “It’s my turn to do some asking. Why do you think it’s time? Why should I come back?”
Peggy accepted the challenge. “There are two reasons,” she declared. “First of all, you’re not happy here.” She stopped him as he started to protest. “It won’t do you any good to deny it. You’re living in a self-imposed exile—not because you want to, but because you think you should. As I said before, I don’t know the reasons, but I do know that running away is no answer.”
“Running away—” said Tom.
Peggy nodded her head firmly. “That’s what I said. Let me finish before you start.” Tom settled back and nodded. “The second reason,” Peggy went on, “is that you’re needed.”