"
Clara looked away into the evening darkness and waited for him to finish
his speech. All afternoon he had been making practically the same speech,
over and over. "Well, I can't help it, I'm a man," he said doggedly. "I
can't help it, I want you. I can't help it, my aunt was an old fool." He
began to explain the necessity of remaining unmarried in order that he
could receive the eleven thousand dollars. "If I don't get that money I'll
be just the same as I am now," he declared. "I won't be any good." He grew
angry and, thrusting his hands into his pockets, stared also across the
field into the darkness. "Nothing keeps me satisfied," he said. "I hate
being in my father's business and I hate going to school. In only two years
I'll get the money. Father can't keep it from me. I'll take it and light
out. I don't know just what I'll do. I'm going maybe to Europe, that's what
I'm going to do. Father wants me to stay here and work in his office. To
hell with that. I want to travel. I'll be a soldier or something. Anyway
I'll get out of here and go somewhere and do something exciting, something
alive. You can go with me. We'll cut out together. Haven't you got the
nerve? Why don't you be my woman?"
Young Metcalf took hold of Clara's shoulder and tried to take her into his
arms. For a moment they struggled and then, in disgust, he stepped away
from her and again began to scold.
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