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He had been alone for nearly an hour. When Wick left, they had had one of their familiar and painful scenes, a scene in which he played dumb, as usual, leaving to his brother the burden of talking around the subject and avoiding any specific mention of what was on both their minds.

Wick had stood in the open door and looked back and said, "I wish you'd change your mind and come with us, this afternoon."

From the deep chair he smiled at his younger brother. "I know you do," he said, "but I can't. I'll be much better off here." He was aware that he was acting and looking like a romantic invalid and he tried to curb this.

The brother came back in and closed the door. "Listen. We've had the tickets such a long while. And Helen'll be disappointed and I'll be disappointed. You know she's only going because of you."

"I'll hear it on the radio."

"Today's Thursday, not Saturday."

"Oh yes. I forgot."

"And you look all right," his brother went on. "Nobody would think there was a thing wrong with you--it's all in your imagination. You look perfectly all right."