Edward did not answer. He looked down at the janitress. He could not see her feet; he was so steeply above her. He could see, however, that some of her hair was false and did not match the rest. After a minute she was gone.
Avery Bird had come half-way up the wooden stairs before Edward really believed that he was there.
They looked at each other in unfriendly silence.
Avery looked frantic; his face was a yellowish white; his thick lips were fixed in a straight line; his cheeks were as hollow as though he were sucking them in. Even his curly black hair looked crushed.
After he had looked at Edward for a minute he pushed by him and unlocked the door.
“Can’t you leave us alone?” he said.
Edward seemed to himself to dwindle. He could hardly believe that anyone had spoken so. “Our Hero—what? Are heroes so addressed? Can’t you leave us alone? It is intolerable. I am an absolute and appalling failure.”
With a limp hand he reached for the door as Avery shut it against him. He touched the door in a yielding way as a cat would touch it. The touch was like magic. Avery opened the door again. “Come in, come in. Oh, come in, come in,” he said furiously. As he preceded Edward into the studio he went on saying, “Come in, come in, oh come in....” Poor Edward was coming in as quickly as he could. Dirty cups and plates were all over the studio. The shades were down over all the windows but one.
“I detest the sight of you,” said Avery. “You are like a beastly disease in my house. You worried Rhoda till she cried at night. Now she is gone, to cry in another bed.”