"Then you must find out, and let me know. And you must come and
visit us at our summer place, where there's a mountain-side that
we can sit on, and you can pretend that our lake is the Caribbean
and hate it to your heart's content--"
"I don't believe I can ever quite hate the Caribbean again."
"From this view you mustn't, anyway. I shouldn't like that. As for
our lake, nobody could really help loving it. So you must be sure
and come, won't you?"
"Dreams!" he murmured.
"Isn't there room in the scientific life for dreams?"
"Yes. But not for their fulfillment."
"But there will be beetles and dragon-flies on our mountain," she
went on, conscious of talking against time, of striving to put off
the moment of departure. "You'll find plenty of work there. Do you
know, Mr. Beetle Man, you haven't told me a thing, really, about
your work, or a thing, really, about yourself. Is that the way to
treat a friend?"
"When I undertook to spread before you the true and veracious
history of my life," he began, striving to make his tone light,
"you would none of it."
"Are you determined to put me off? Do you think that I wouldn't
find the things that are real to you interesting?"
"They're quite technical," he said shyly.
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