392
PARTISAN REVIEW
But Dan had passed now beyond the reach of the vulgar mob,
beyond their disapproval. He had entered the realm of pure spirit.
He closed his eyes. We were so close, I could feel his heart. He was
smiling. His face shone. He was among the blessed.
When the reading was over, he arose gravely and passed among
them to his seat.
It
was evident that he had returned from a far
distance.
Then, immediately, it was time to go home. In a heavy Macki–
naw, too big for him, and a plaid wool cap with huge earftaps nearly
obliterating his face, he was all but unrecognizable. When they lined
up, fastidious Elsie, who had openly spurned him, a llowed him to
take her hand as required.
They filed out. Some pressed my hand. Some kissed me. Dan
touched my skirt for a moment, then marched on down the corridor
to the main doors beyond which waited the mothers in the noisy
factory street.
So many years to go, I thought, as he disappeared. I stood
there , melancholy, trying to remember where the uptown subway
was. Listen, I know that I can't do this job. Too much power. Too
little. It's too hard .
