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Stout, Rex, 1886-1975

"Under the Andes"

You regard me as more or less of
an encumbrance; you think your movements are hampered; you
consider yourself to be treated as a child unjustly.
"Well, for my part, I find my duty--for such I consider it--grows
more irksome every day. If I am in your way, you are no less in
mine. To make it short, you are now twenty-two years old, you
chafe at restraint, you think yourself abundantly able to manage
your own affairs. Well--I have no objection."
Harry stared at me.
"You mean--" he began.
"Exactly."
"But, Paul--"
"There is no need to discuss it. For me, it is mostly
selfishness."
But he wanted to talk, and I humored him. For two hours we sat,
running the scale from business to sentiment, and I must confess
that I was more than once surprised by a flash from Harry.
Clearly he was developing, and for the first time I indulged a
hope that he might prove himself fit for self-government.
At least I had given him the rope; it remained for time to
discover whether or not he would avoid getting tangled up in it.
When we had finished we understood each other better, I think,
than we ever had before; and we parted with the best of feeling.


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