"
"Why don't you go East?" asked Bob.
"I did once. Didn't like it."
"What's the matter?"
"Well, I'll tell you. Back East when you don't do nothing, you feel kind
of guilty. Out here when you don't do nothing, _you don't give a damn!_"
Nevertheless, Bob was very sorry when he had to leave this quiet and
beautiful little town, with its happy, careless, charming people.
Thence he went directly to a town built in a half-circle of the
mountains. The sunshine here was warm and grateful, but when its rays
were withdrawn a stinging chill crept down from the snow. No sitting out
on the verandah after dinner, but often a most grateful fire in the
Club's fireplace. The mornings were crisp and enlivening. And again by
the middle of the day the soft California warmth laid the land under its
spell.
This was a place of orange-growers, young fellows from the East. Its
University Club was large and prosperous. Its streets were wide. Flowers
lined the curbs. There were few fences. The houses were in good taste.
Even the telephone poles were painted green so as to be unobtrusive. Bob
thought it one of the most attractive places he had ever seen, as indeed
it should be, for it was built practically to order by people of
intelligence.
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