Page:Levenson - Butterfly Man.djvu/278

276 street. To Dr. Murrell came elegant young women, rising stars of Broadway, the beauty of their bodies, the slim perfection of them was both a source of pride and of fear. Were they growing old? Had they been indiscreet? How could they avoid the consequences of love? How destroy its after-effects?

Men, thoughtless, willful men, came, too, to the doctor, whose narrow eyes and firm lips could open in full robust laughter at a topical jest. He knew these men so well. He had been their sort, lusty, strong in passion, careless of consequences.

He studied Ken. "You're a finely poised individual," he said. "I know all about you. Heard of your accident."

"It wasn't an accident. I was drunk," Ken said. "I did it myself."

"Didn't you want to dance again?"

"I wanted to destroy myself."

"I've heard you are homosexual. Is it true?"

Ken blinked at the bald question. "Yes."

"You surprise me. Not by the fact, but because you admit it—"

"I—"

Dr. Murrell interrupted: "I am speaking to you as a physician now. You have nothing to fear from your inability to conform. You diverge from normal, of course. But that is not to say that you are abnormal. Perhaps you are a more complex organism than we others. Don't worry about that."

"But my physical condition—?"

"I'll look into that thoroughly. We'll try everything, metabolism, blood tests, sputum analysis, urinalysis, and so on. Let's get under way."