"
A sudden cloud of white rose from the bowl of Woodbury's pipe.
"But I thought--"
"That it was a big event? It was--a fine thing for me to get a bid to;
but I went to the Wild West show instead. Sir, I know it was childish,
but--I couldn't help it! I saw the posters; I thought of the
horse-breaking, the guns, the swing and snap and dash of galloping men,
the taint of sweating horses--and by God, sir, I _couldn't_ stay away!
Are you angry?"
It was more than anger; it was almost fear that widened the eye of
Woodbury as he stared at his son. He said at last, controlling himself:
"But I have your word; you've given up the thought of this Western
life?"
"Yes," answered Anthony, with a touch of despair, "I have given it up, I
suppose. But, oh, sir--" He stopped, hopeless.
"And what else happened?"
"Nothing to speak of."
"After you come home you don't usually change your clothes merely for
the pleasure of sitting with me here."
"Nothing escapes you, does it?" muttered Anthony.
"In your set, Anthony, that's what they'd call an improper question.
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