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I want you
to ask her, whatever she thinks my deserts are, to do just one thing for
me, and that is to let me take her out of that perfectly hideous place.
I don't ask anything else but that. She can make any terms she likes.
She can live where or how she likes. Only--not like that. Maybe it's a
deserved punishment, but I can't stand it!"
There was the crystallization of what little thinking he had managed to
do in the two purgatorial days he'd spent in that down-state hotel--in
the intervals of fighting off the torturing jingle of that tune, and the
memory of the dull frozen agony he'd seen in Rose's face as he left her.
No great result, truly. The mountain had labored and brought forth a
mouse.
But reflect for a moment what Rodney's life had been; how gently, for
all his buoyant theories about the acceptance of discipline, the world,
in its material aspect at any rate, had dealt with him. How completely
that boyish arrogance of his had been allowed to grow unbruised by
circumstance.


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