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“Noo, what have you been doing all this time?” he asked.

“I left the army a year ago. You know, I wrote to you then and found out that you still lived here. That was very kind of me, I’m sure. Since then I’ve knocked about in different towns. Sleep and work, work and sleep—the twin brothers of man’s inadequacy.”

“Ye-es, still using long words, the twin brothers of something or other,” said Mrs. Felman, with a light disapproval. “Learn to talk and act like other people and you’ll be better off. I used to think a little different when I was young, but believe me, you can’t get along by just dreaming and talking to yourself. The trouble with you is that you got a lot of fancy words and no get-up.”

“Philosophical discourse number sixty-two,” answered Carl, in the drowsily chanting voice of a train announcer. “Or have I lost count of them? Your life hasn’t made you very happy, mother, and perhaps that’s why your arguments are lacking in the swagger of conviction. Or perhaps you think that it’s best to be unhappy, and in that case I agree with you.”