It had never occurred to him before to take sides between his father
and his mother, but there was rising in him a new and ardent
partisanship of his father, a feeling that they were, in a way, men
together. He had, more than once, been tempted to go to him with
the Anna Klein situation. He would have, probably, but a fellow
felt an awful fool going to somebody and telling him that a girl
was in love with him, and what the dickens was he to do about it?
He wondered, too, if anybody would believe that his relationship
with Anna was straight, under the circumstances. For weeks now he
had been sending her money, out of a sheer sense of responsibility
for her beating and her illness. He took no credit for altruism.
He knew quite well the possibilities of the situation. He made no
promises to himself. But such attraction as Anna had had for him
had been of her prettiness, and their propinquity. Again she was
girl, and that was all. And the attraction was very faint now. He
was only sorry for her.
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