I certainly do!
But I thought—
You thought because I left one woman and hadn’t found another that I didn’t care for women? Others believe that, too, but it isn’t so. On the contrary. You see, I didn’t so much leave her as get away from my own failure. Of course, there is such a thing as the wrong woman. She makes a man a fraction. The better she is in herself, the less she leaves him to live by. One twentieth is less than one half. But the right woman! She multiplies a man....
Why, you might have told from my poems how I believe in love.
I don’t remember any love poems.
Bless your heart! Every one of them was a love poem. Not the old-fashioned kind, about fading roses and tender hearts.... I sent that book out as a cry for the mate. It is charged with the fulness of love. That’s why I could write about trees and storms.
I suppose if I had been older....
It isn’t one’s age but one’s need. She will understand. Look, the sun has gone round the corner of the house. Is that lunch you have in the parcel?
Would you like to make it a picnic? I’ll get something from the house, and then we can walk to the woods.
I’d love to!
All right, I’ll be ready in no time. Come, Rex!
The garden of a home in the suburbs. A man is walking up and down alone at dusk, occasionally stopping to water a plant, but more often falling into deep thought, unconscious of his surroundings. About the place there is an air of newness and prosperity.
A young woman enters the garden from the lawn next door.
Look here, Roger, you can’t keep this up!
No, I can’t keep this up. Besides, it’s going to rain to-morrow.