Ah, love was the only thing in the world that counted, love and art. Not the love of woman, which was after all but an intermittent intoxicant, but the love of one's own.
Kenny pitied in foretaste the ragged parent who would come upon the camp fire of his son, picturesque and repentant, and dramatized the meeting, a lump in his throat. Emotionally it was complex to be actor and audience both. Thank God, he reflected, as he opened a closet door, dragged forth a battered multitude of bags and suit cases and began an impatient upheaval of bureau drawers, he was a man of action. When Garry entered a half hour later he found the studio floor littered with preparation.
"I'm off, this morning," he explained. "In an hour now. Garry, how can I possibly reduce this mass to packing possibility?"
"Stop running around in circles!" commanded Garry, thunderstruck. "What's it all about? Where are you going?"
"I'm going," said Kenny with his chin out and his eyes defiant, "to hunt Brian."
Garry stared blankly at the packing litter and the tall Irishman in the center of it wearily mopping his forehead. It was impossible to locate the crags he must have leaped to reach his spectacular decision. They were shrouded in mystery.
"You mean," said Garry after a while, "that you will tour vaguely off, seeking a farm on a hill, a wood, a river, a youngster in patches and Brian's trail of camp fires?"
"Precisely," said Kenny with detestable confidence. "See, even you mark the clues with perfect logic."
"A farm on a hill," exclaimed Garry, "is of course a clue with absolute individuality. So is a wood and a river."
"So," supplemented Kenny with the calm, unhurried air of one who scores an unexpected point, "is a postmark on a letter."
Startled, Garry reached for the envelope. Kenny put it in his pocket.
"An obscure village in Pennsylvania," he explained with dignity, "where your wood and your river will likely have definite individuality. I shall go there."
Garry scented danger and considered the outcome in horrified dismay, regretting his rash flurry of sympathy. It had become a boomerang. What if Brian's protégé in a fit of remorse saw fit to keep his sister posted? Kenny would indeed find clues. The possibility filled him with foreboding.