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The desire it showed to play fair with her; the
unwillingness to take advantage of a fear his coming like that might
have inspired her with. And then the way he had made it possible for
her, with a single word, to send him away! And the restraint of that "I
want to see you very much!" It wasn't like any Rodney she knew, to be
humble like that. His humility stripped her of her armor. If he'd been
imperious, exigeant, she could have gone down to meet him with her head
up. Suppose she found him broken, aged, with a dumb need for her crying
out in his eyes, what would she do? What could she trust herself not to
do? But just in human mercy to him she mustn't let him see she was
wavering.
The Rose he was waiting for, there in the lobby, the only Rose he had
been able to picture to himself for more than a fortnight of distressful
days, was the Rose he'd last seen in that North Clark Street room; the
Rose with a look of dumb frozen agony in her face. The one idea he'd
clung to since starting for Dubuque, had been that he mustn't frighten
her.


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