"It would," Anne said. But she thought: "It just will happen. It's
happening now."
"Here's Eliot," she said.
Eliot came down the stairs. Adeline went to him.
"Oh Eliot, what do you think of him?"
Eliot put her off. "I can't tell you yet."
"You think he's very bad?"
"Very."
"But you don't think there isn't any hope?"
"I can't tell yet. There may be. He wants you to go to him. Don't talk
much to him. Don't let him talk. And don't, whatever you do, let him
move an inch."
Adeline went upstairs. Anne and Eliot were alone. "You _can_ tell," she
said. "You don't think there's any hope."
"I don't. There's something quite horribly wrong. His temperature's a
hundred and three."
"Is that bad?"
"Very."
"I do wish Jerry hadn't gone."
"So do I."
"It'll be worse for him, Eliot, than for any of us when he knows."
"I know. But he's always been like that, as long as I can remember. He
simply can't stand trouble. It's the only thing he funks. And his
funking it wouldn't matter if he'd stand and face it. But he runs away.
He's running away now. Say what you like, it's a sort of cowardice."
"It's his only fault."
"I know it is. But it's a pretty serious one, Anne. And he'll have to
pay for it. The world's chock full of suffering and all sorts of
horrors, and you can't go turning your back to them as Jerrold does
without paying for it. Why, he won't face anything that's even a little
unpleasant. He won't listen if you try to tell him. He won't read a book
that hasn't a happy ending. He won't go to a play that isn't a comedy...
It's an attitude I can't understand. I don't like horrors any more than
he does; but when I hear about them I want to go straight where they are
and do something to stop them. That's what I chose my profession for."
"I know. Because you're so sorry. So sorry. But Jerry's sorry too. So
sorry that he can't bear it."
"But he's got to bear it. There it is and he's got to take it. He's only
making things worse for himself by holding out and refusing. Jerrold
will never be any good till he _has_ taken it. Till he's suffered
damnably."
"I don't want him to suffer. I don't want it. I can't bear him to bear
it."
"He must. He's got to."
"I'd do anything to save him. But I can't."
"You can't. And you mustn't try to. It would be the best thing that
could happen to him."
"Oh no, not to Jerry."
"Yes. To Jerry. If he's ever to be any good. You don't want him to be a
moral invalid, do you?"