"
"I couldn't explain in a month," he said.
"Oh, I wish I were some good," she said forlornly.
He pulled out his watch again and began pacing up and down the room.
"I just can't stand it to see you like that," she broke out again. "If
you'll only sit down for five minutes and let me try to get that
strained look out of your eyes...."
"Good God, Rose!" he shouted. "Can't you take my word for it and let it
alone? I'm not ill, nor frightened, nor broken-hearted. I don't need to
be comforted nor encouraged. I'm in an intellectual quandary. For the
next three hours, or six, or however long it takes, I want my mind to
run cold and smooth. I've got to be tight and strained. That's the way
the job's done. You can't solve an intellectual problem by having your
hand held, or your eyes kissed, or anything like that. Now, for God's
sake, child, run along and let me forget you ever existed, for a while!"
And he ground his teeth over an impulse that all but got the better of
him, after she'd shut the door, to follow her out into the corridor and
pull her up in his arms and kiss her face all over, and to consign the
Law and the Prophets both, to the devil.
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