"
He looked kindly but anxiously at Selwyn, waiting for a word; and as
none came he said:
"Old fellow, you can't fool me with your talk about needing nothing
better because you're out of town all the time. You know what you and I
used to talk about in the old days--our longing for a home and an open
fire and a brace of cats and bedroom slippers. Now I've got 'em, and I
make Ardois signals at you. If your shelter-tent got afire or blew away,
wouldn't you crawl into mine? And are you going to turn down an old
tent-mate because his shack happens to be built of bricks?"
"Do you put it that way?"
"Yes, I do. Why, in Heaven's name, do you want to stay in a vile hole
like this--unless you're smitten with Mrs. Glodden? Phil, I _want_ you
to come. Will you?"
"Then--I'll accept a corner of your blanket--for a day or two," said
Selwyn wearily. . . . "You'll let me go when I want to?"
"I'll do more; I'll make you go when _I_ want you to. Come on; pay Mrs.
Glodden and have your trunk sent.
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