THE BOY
I don't remember any love poems.
THE MAN
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.
THE BOY
I suppose if I had been older....
THE MAN
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?
THE BOY
Yes.
THE MAN
Would you like to make it a picnic? I'll get something from the house, and
then we can walk to the woods.
THE BOY
I'd love to!
THE MAN
All right, I'll be ready in no time. Come, Rex!
SURVIVAL
_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.
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