But she could tell by the dullness of his eyes that he saw only some inner vision. The Widgett mental furniture was perhaps worn and shabby, but there it was before you, undisguised, fading visibly in an almost pitiless sunlight. “The rarefied air? I thought you had a better head. At Morningside Park I feel as though all my growing up was presently to stop, as though I was being shut in from the light of life, and, as they say in botany, etiolated. He was draining a glass, and as he set it down he shuddered. She knew that to expect more now was like anticipating a gold-mine in the garden. Mike was already on dishwasher duty when John rang the doorbell.
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