Caddy Buddy books

"I ought not to leave the house."
"But," he began slowly.
"I am not the kind of woman who leaves her house and children in the
evenings," she said gently, but finally.
Charlie took his hat. He turned it round and round in his hands,
pinching the crown in, and punching it out. He had a curious, almost
uncontrollable wish to cry. For a moment it was terrible. Before it was
over, she was speaking again.
"You ought not to mess your hats about like that; they don't last half
as long."
Charlie went out.
He knew other men who were as puzzled about life as himself, but mostly
they were of cruder stuff, and if things at home went beyond their
bearing they flung out of their houses, swearing, and went to play a
hundred up at the local club. Then they were philosophers again. But
for Charlie this evening there was no philosophy big enough, for he was
looking, though he did not know it, over the edge of that awful, but
enchanting abyss. Its depths were obscured by rolling clouds of mist,
and it was only this mist which he now saw, terrifying and confusing
him.


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