"Well, I'm going over now. Quick work, isn't it? And to think that a few
months ago I was hanging around the club and generally making a mess
of life. That's all over now, thank God. I'm going to make good. Try to
buck mother up. It's pretty hard for her. It's hard for all women, just
waiting. And while I know I'm coming back, safe and sound, I'd like
to feel that you are going to keep an eye on Delight. She's the most
important thing in the world to me now."
Then scrawled in a corner he had added, "You've been mighty fine with me always, dad. I was a good bit of a pup
last winter. If I make anything of myself at all, it will be because I
want to be like you."
Clayton sat for a long time with the letter in his hand. The happiness
and hope that fairly radiated from it cheered and warmed him. He was
nearly happy. And it came to him then that, while every man had the
right to happiness, only those achieved it who craved it for others, and
having craved it for them, at last saw the realization of their longing.