RODERICK HUDSON
"Pray, sir, is it produced by my inopportune allusion to Miss Light's marriage?"
"It 's produced by your inopportune everything. I don't say that to offend you; I beg your pardon if it does. I say it by way of making our rupture complete and irretrievable."
Rowland had stood by in silence, but he now interfered. "Listen to me well," he said, laying his hand on Roderick's arm. "You're standing on the edge of a very deep sea. If you suffer this accident to put you out, you take your plunge. It 's no matter at all that you don't like your work; it's no matter at all—if he 'll magnanimously allow me to say so—that you don't even like Mr. Leavenworth: to whom it certainly is n't any matter either! You 'll do the wisest thing you ever did if you muster the resolution not to chuck up a commission so definitely accepted. Make the effort necessary at least for finishing your job. Then destroy what you 've done, if you like; but finish it first and see. I speak only the truth."
Roderick looked at him with eyes that regret for impossibility made almost tender. "You too?" he simply said.
He felt he might as well attempt to squeeze water from a polished crystal as hope to move him. He turned away and walked into the adjoining room with a sense of sickening helplessness. In a few moments he came back and found that Mr. Leavenworth had departed—he really hoped with due superiority. Roderick was sitting with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Rowland
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