But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. It was no wonder, there was no money to buy food for the house. Still, thereafter she had avoided Morgan's; partly out of fear and partly because of her father's mandate. She felt his crotch through his jeans. The first Step towards the Ladder. It was her distinctive test of an emotional state, its interference with a kindly normal digestion. The rich, heavy food sat in her stomach like so many soft pebbles. He had hurt her.
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