"
He kissed her. And they clung together, finding a little comfort
in the contact of warm young bodies.
He went up to her room that night. He was more anxious as to
Rudolph than he cared to admit, but he went up, treading softly on
stairs that creaked with every step. He had no coherent thoughts.
He wanted companionship rather than love. He was hungry for what
she gave him, the touch of her hands about his neck, the sense of
his manhood that shone from her faithful eyes, the admiration and
unstinting love she offered him.
But alone in the little room he had a reaction, not the less keen
because it was his fastidious rather than his moral sense that
revolted. The room was untidy, close, sordid. Even Anna's youth
did not redeem it. Again he had the sense, when he had closed the
door, of being caught in a trap, and this time a dirty trap. When
she had taken off her hat, and held up her face to be kissed, he
knew he would not stay.
"It's awful, isn't it?" she asked, following his eyes.
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