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"
"A year," said Beason dismally, "is such a long time to lose."
The man had nothing to say to that. His head sank a little. He seemed to
be thinking.
Finally he came out of his reverie; seemed to come from a long way off.
"And where are you going, my boy?" he asked kindly. "What are you going
to do?"
"I'm going clear out West," said Beason gloomily. "Father has something
for me with a company in the Northwest."
"Out there!"--an eager voice rang out, a voice which rested on a
smothered sob. "Great heavens, man, you're going out there? Out there to
the mountains and the forests? Out there where you can see the sun come
up and go down, can see--can see--" but his voice trailed off to a
strange silence.
"I never cared much for scenery," said Beason bluntly, "and I care a lot
for--all this I'm leaving."
"We don't really leave a thing," said the man--his voice was low and
tired--"when we're coming back to it. The only real leave-takings are the
final ones."
Beason shifted in his chair.


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