“Thank you,” he said, “for letting me back. The idea of Ruth as a talisman against misfortune—which he now recognized as a sick man's idea— faded as his appreciation of the absurd reasserted itself. “Want to see the upstairs?” “Sure. Who’s for a rubber of whist?” Ennison made so many mistakes that he was glad to cut out early in the evening. There was only one idea in his head now—to batter and bruise and crush this weakling, then cast him at the feet of his love-lorn wife. “Am I becoming reasonable or am I being tamed? “I’m simply discovering that life is many-sided and complex and puzzling.
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