He was vaguely uneasy, however. He had a sense of a situation being forced on him. He knew, too, that Clayton was waiting for him at the new plant. But Anna's trouble, absurd as its cause seemed to him, was his responsibility.
It ceased to be absurd, however, when he saw her discolored features. It would be some time before she could even look for another situation. Her face was a swollen mask, and since such attraction as she had had for him had been due to a sort of evanescent prettiness of youth, he felt a repulsion that he tried his best to conceal.
“You poor little thing!” he said. “He's a brute. I'd like—” He clenched his fists. “Well, I got you into it. I'm certainly going to see you through.”
She had lowered her veil quickly, and he felt easier. The telephone booth was in the corner of a quiet hotel, and they were alone. He patted her shoulder.
“I'll see you through,” he repeated. “Don't you worry about anything. Just lie low.”
“See me through? How?”
“I can give you money; that's the least I can do. Until you are able to work again.” And as she drew away, “We'll call it a loan, if that makes you feel better. You haven't anything, have you?”
“He has everything I've earned.. I've never had a penny except carfare.”
“Poor little girl!” he said again.
She was still weak, he saw, and he led her into the deserted cafe. He took a highball himself, not because he wanted it, but because she refused to drink, at first. He had never before had a drink in the morning, and he felt a warm and reckless glow to his very finger-tips. Bending toward her, while the waiter's back was turned, he kissed her marred and swollen cheek.