He hadn't gambled or played the horses or hit the booze back there in little old New York…. Even now, my problems begin to catch up with me; they will discover me soon. On the day he carried the manuscript to Copeley's he brought back a packet of letters, magazines, and newspapers. He jumped out of his own side once again and ran around the car to open hers in another theatrical display of chivalry. We smirk, and we’re a bit—furtive. Then, one night, he glanced up to behold Ruth and Rollo in the doorway. There was plenty of sweet water. There’s no family uniting instinct, anyhow; it’s habit and sentiment and material convenience hold families together after adolescence. Besides, revenge is sweetened by delay; and I indulge too freely in the passion to rob it of any of its zest. Remember, in your story—look at it, scattered everywhere!—that line? We arrive at true happiness only through labyrinths of misery.
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