VIII.
The older members of the firm insisted that Anson should go abroad for the summer. He had scarcely had a vacation in seven years, they said. He was stale and needed a change. Anson resisted.
“If I go,” he declared, “I won’t come back any more.”
“That’s absurd, old man. You’ll be back in three months with all this depression gone. Fit as ever.”
“No.” He shook his head stubbornly. “If I stop, I won’t go back to work. If I stop, that means I’ve given up—I’m through.”
“We’ll take a chance on that. Stay six months if you like—we’re not afraid you’ll leave us. Why, you’d be miserable if you didn’t work.”
They arranged his passage for him. They liked Anson—every one liked Anson—and the change that had been coming over him cast a sort of pall over the office. The enthusiasm that had in
