Suddenly, savagely, he crumpled the paper into a ball, threw it into the street, strode resolutely to Sue's apartment-house and rang her bell.
Sue promptly lighted the alcohol lamp under her kettle and they had tea. Over the cups, feeling coldly desperate, the Worm said:
“Been thinking you all over, Sue.” It was a relief to find that his voice sounded fairly natural.
She took the remark rather lightly. “I'm not worth it, Henry.... I've thought some myself—your idea of the boundary...”
His thoughts were moving on with disconcerting rapidity. He must take the plunge. It was his fate. He knew it.
“We talked marriage,” he said.
She nodded.
“Since then I've tried to figure but what I do think, and crystallize it. Sue, I'm not so sure that Betty was wrong.”
“That's a new slant,” said she thoughtfully.
“Or very old. Just try to look through my eyes for a moment. Betty had tried freedom—had something of a fling at it. Now, it is evident that in her case it didn't work very well. Isn't it?”