For his own part, William sneered at
him indifferently, and continued to bathe Sylviana with mock interest
and open lust. His only reply to her question, 'Why haven't I
seen you before?' was a rude:
'Him Tarzan, you Jane. Me come back tomorrow.' And he had taken
some food, without asking or thanks, and made off the way he had come.
'How can you let him treat you that way?' demanded Kalus.
Since the question was directed at no one in particular, Ruth Welles
replied, neither apologizing nor defending their actions. She was a
tall, serious woman in her mid thirties, with pincers of brown hair
surrounding a pleasant face and striking eyes, which revealed to those
who knew how to look, a nature both stubborn and compassionate.
'That's just his way,' she said, 'And there are reasons for
it. We've all been hurt and bereft by the War, but his pain.....
Let's just say it's much harder for him to forgive and go one, and
that we're all worried about him, because we do care.'
'But he won't let anyone come close enough to help him,' added
Smith. 'He storms in and out for food, occasionally takes wine or
medicine along with it, and that's all we ever see of him. We helped
him set up a laboratory, before we knew what it was for. We considered
smashing it afterward, but what can you do for someone who makes his own
poison, and flaunts his own destruction?'
'Why?' asked Sylviana.
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