“It isn’t worth while if you can’t.”
‘Maybe we’ll never go skiing again, Nick,’ George said.
‘We’ve got to,’ said Nick. ‘It isn’t worth while if you can’t.’
‘We’ll go, all right,’ George said.
‘We’ve got to,’ Nick agreed.
‘I wish we could make a promise about it,’ George said.
Nick stood up. He buckled his wind jacket tight. He leaned over
George and picked up the two ski poles from against the wall. He stuck one of the ski poles into the flood.
‘There isn’t any good in promising,’ he said.
They opened the door and went out. It was very cold. The snow had crusted hard. The road ran up the hill into the pine trees.
They took down their skis from where they leaned against the wall of the inn. Nick put on his gloves.
George was already started up the road, his skis on his shoulder. Now they would have run home together.
- Ernest Hemmingway, from the short story, Cross Country Snow