Wenny's heart was pounding. His hands were cold. Afraid, are you? a voice sneered in his head. To live you can be afraid of nothing. The Greeks were not afraid. The lean-faced men were not afraid. By god they were. Men flagellated themselves round the altar of Apollo on Delos. They recanted on their deathbeds and stuck their tongues out eagerly for the wafer. And can David Wendell, silly little Wenny, son of a minister with his collar on backwards, can I conquer fear. I must. Her flesh was hot under his hand. "Let's go, Ellen. Where do you live?" "Aint so far from here. I'll show you. I got a swell room." The wind blew cold down streets of blank windows. At the corner she slipped on a frozen puddle. "Oopsidaisy!" He caught her with a laugh. "Jeeze, I wrenched my ankle..." She drew the breath in sharply through her teeth. "Hell of a note... Say, kiddo, got plenty of jack?" "I've got enough." "I'll treat you nice, honest I will. I like you, real pash. Make it twenty, will you? A buck don't go far nowadays. Make it twenty, kiddo." "I don't think I can give you as much as that. I'm broke." Nan this morning in her green kimono shaking him, her long fingers digging into his shoulders. O, I must forget her. "Not often you can get a girl like me, deary. I'm mighty careful... "Don't worry, I'll give you all I've got." They passed a Chinaman in a fur coat standing under an arclight. Nan, I hate you. Nan, I'll kill you out of my mind. Tomorrow when I've killed you utterly, I'll begin to live. They stopped at a red brick house with a sign Furnished Rooms in the window. The key was in the door, clicked; the door opened. Dim gaslight in the hall. Whitey had said: O, they don't bother me. I get it now and then, but I don't miss it. I'll be like that tomorrow. The carpet on the stairs had big roses on green; it was frayed and torn. The stairs creaked. The house smelt mustily of rotting wallpaper, of ratnests. "Here we are, deary... Aint bad, is it. Wait a sec, I'll light up." Nan, you are beaten, dead. Must not is dead too. Wenny's legs were trembling. His tongue moved about in his mouth like a thirsty dog's. He dropped into a chair by the door. Nan, God, how I love you, Nan. "Tired are you, deary? D'you know you look powerful like a guy I had a crush on wonct. Near croaked of it, honest... You see, for all I could do he wouldn't give it to me... Kerist, I'm glad that's over. Worse than a spell of sickness..." To be free of this sickness of desire. I must break down my fear. Of what, of what? The social evil, prostitutions of the Caananites, venereal disease, what every young man should know, convention, duty, God. What rot.