Wasn't Ben's whole theory
that everyone should be self-supporting? Why not be consistent?
Ignorant people might imagine that two affectionate brothers could
not quarrel over an issue purely affectionate. But the Moretons did
quarrel--more bitterly than ever before, and that is saying a great
deal. With the extraordinary tenacity of memory that develops
under strong emotion, they each contrived to recall and to mention
everything which the other had done that was wrong, ridiculous, or
humiliating since their earliest days. They parted with the impression
on David's part that Ben thought him a self-indulgent grafter, and
on Ben's side that David thought him a bully solely interested in
imposing his will on those unfortunate enough to be dependent on him.
It was after half past four when, having walked up five flights of
stairs, he let himself into his modest flat on the top floor of an
old-fashioned brownstone house. As he opened the door, he called,
"Nora!"
No beautiful partner of a free-love affair appeared, but an elderly
woman in spectacles who had once been Professor Moreton's cook,
and now, doing all the housework for Ben, contrived to make him so
comfortable that the editor of a more radical paper than his own had
described the flat as "a bourgeois interior."
"Nora," said Ben, "put something in my bag for the night--I'm going to
Newport in a few minutes."
He had expected a flood of questions, for Nora was no looker-on at
life, and he was surprised by her merely observing that she was glad
he was getting away from the heat.
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