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Wick didn't seem to have noticed. "Mrs. Foley will be in about three o'clock to clean up a little. I've left a dollar on the radio in case you want her to get you anything."

"I won't want anything."

"What are you going to do--you're not going out, are you?"

"Oh no, I'm not going out." He smiled, and added, "You don't believe me, do you?"

The brother looked away. "I just thought maybe you'd be taking Mac out."

"No. Mrs. Foley can, if he wants to go out."

"All right," the brother said again. "I'll have the car sent over and we can get going by six-thirty at the latest. It may be cold down there; after all, it's October; but a weekend in the country will do you a lot of good. Both of us."

Don smiled again. "Thursday to Monday--that's pretty long for a 'weekend.'"

"That's all right, the longer the better. And listen,"--Wick was working it up for his benefit, trying to act enthusiastic, trying to show he had forgotten the tiresome pleading and was convinced that he would stay where he was, safe and sound--"let's not come back till Tuesday, or even Wednesday. Well, Tuesday--I can arrange it all right with the office."