From then on Bradley made not a single utterance to anybody—not even Ida herself. Nothing could save him from the crevice he was in now. Not the medusas, not his friends—wherever they lay—could save him now. Had they been with him this whole time or not, he didn't know.
For what his life was worth now, was it any better than the life before? The never-ending cycle of city life; was it worth it? Could it have truly been better than total restriction from everything he had once known? He would never know; nobody would ever know. For all Bradley knew, this was life now, and this is what he would do for the rest of his life.
Ida may have been a beast of a woman, but had she truly killed Bradley's will to life, or did she save him from his ignorance of life? Bells rang about in his head coming close to the answer, but none of them close enough.