“God, he’s in sad shape.” “Who isn’t?” Ruth asks. “You don’t seem to be.” “I eat, is what you mean.” “No, listen, you have some kind of complex about being big. You’re not fat. You’re right in proportion.” She laughs, catches herself, looks at him, laughs again and squeezes his arm and says, “Rabbit, you’re a Christian gentleman.” Her using his own name enters his ears with unsettling warmth.
“God, he’s in sad shape.”
“Who isn’t?” Ruth asks.
“You don’t seem to be.”
“I eat, is what you mean.”
“No, listen, you have some kind of complex about being big. You’re not fat. You’re right in proportion.”
She laughs, catches herself, looks at him, laughs again and squeezes his arm and says, “Rabbit, you’re a Christian gentleman.” Her using his own name enters his ears with unsettling warmth.
