She was quite oblivious to the sensation she had created. “It’s—private. There’s the internal factor as well as the external. “I am frightened now. The sky was dripping a wet, slow rain that had forced the city’s inhabitants into taxicabs and dingy cafeterias, the day wholly ruined for all except the insane schizophrenics and her. I overlooked the mechanical imperfections of your work, the utter lack of finish, the crudeness of your drawing. I didn’t realize—I don’t see how I can get out of it now. There were menacing possibilities; the thought of them set him a-tremble. I’ve told them all that was necessary, but I— wanted to ask your pardon—for having made myself a nuisance to you, and for breaking into your rooms—and to thank you—the doctor says you bound up my wound—or I should have bled to death. Perhaps that is why I lost my ambition. Look at me. Stanley.
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