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You ought to see him these days." She always referred to her father
as "him." "He's dreadful. I'm only happy when I'm here with you."
He was angry, out of sheer despair.
"I've told you," he said. "Things can't go on as they are. You
know well enough what I mean. I'm older than you are, Anna. God
knows I don't want any harm to come to you through me. But, if we
continue to be together - "
"I'm not blaming you." She looked at him honestly. "I'd just rather
have you care about me than marry anybody else."
He kissed her, with a curious mingling of exultation and despair.
He left her there when he went away that afternoon, a rather
downcast young figure, piling up records and card-indexes, and
following him to the door with worshiping, anxious eyes. Later on
in the afternoon Joey, wandering in from Clayton's office on one of
his self-constituted observation tours, found her crying softly while
she wiped her typewriter, preparatory to covering it for the night.
"Somebody been treatin' you rough?" he asked, more sympathetic than
curious.


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