Rather. Give me the degrading influence of a decadent civilisation every time.
Norah.
Your father will be pleased to see you, won’t he?
Hornby.
I don’t think. Of course, I was a damned fool ever to leave Winnipeg.
Norah.
I understand you didn’t till you were forced to.
Hornby.
Your brother behaved like a perfect brick. I sent him on your letter and told him I was up against it—d’you know I hadn’t got a bob? I was jolly glad to earn half a dollar by digging a pit in a man’s garden. Bit thick, you know.
Norah.