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Then with the other I tapped Carol on the hip to indicate that she should turn around again and face me.She had either managed to keep her glasses on or she had replaced them before turning, because they were where they were supposed to be. Her face, as she looked up at me from between my legs, was drained and exhausted-looking. But there was also an air of satisfaction about her, and she managed a weak smile for me.Her smile faded as I showed her the carrots and the apple and she realized that they were what had been inside her. And when I held the carrot sticks, still glistening with oil, up to her mouth, her expression became one of complete disgust and repulsion.But she opened her mouth.She made terrible faces as I fed them to her, though I was sure they didn't taste of anything more than oil and vinegar. But she wanted to be sure I understood how degrading it was—it was her way of thanking me.When she had swallowed the last of the carrots, I held up the apple wedge. It looked. But like so many things left over from the great railroads of times past, it still had dignity, solidity, and a heavy degree of timelessness. There were nicer hotels in New York, he knew, but this was the one he stayed in.He sat down and started attacking the delicious variation of a dish made to his specifications, eggs burgandian- a dish made by poaching eggs in red wine and beef bullion, then thickening the poaching liquid into a sauce. It was one of his favorite things to eat. The coffee wasn’t bad, either. The Hotel Pennsylvania had fallen on some hard times, but they still provided an excellent cuisine.College? he thought, Why am I going? I don’t want to go. There is nowhere for me now, nowhere to go. I don’t want to meet some stuck-up college girl who is going to college just to look for a husband. I don’t want to be some middle manager for some big company! I want to work for the railroad, like everybody in my family before me.Polishing off the delicious breakfast, George.
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