some
officious brisk thing he could do for her, and before he could quite
form the thought he was asleep, racked and aching. The night was
infinite. When dawn came and the waiting seemed at an end, he fell
asleep, and was vexed to have been caught off his guard, to have been
aroused by Verona's entrance and her agitated "Oh, what is it, Dad?"

His wife was awake, her face sallow and lifeless in the morning light,
but now he did not compare her with Tanis; she was not merely A Woman,
to be contrasted with other women, but his own self, and though he might
criticize her and nag her, it was only as he might criticize and nag
himself, interestedly, unpatronizingly, without the expectation of
changing--or any real desire to change--the eternal essence.

With Verona he sounded fatherly again, and firm. He consoled Tinka, who
satisfactorily pointed the excitement of the hour by wailing. He ordered
early breakfast, and wanted to look at the newspaper, and felt somehow
heroic and useful in not looking at it. But there were still crawling
and totally unheroic hours of waiting before Dr. Patten returned.

"Don't see much change," said Patten. "I'll be back about eleven, and
if you don't mind, I think I'll bring in some other world-famous
pill-pedler for consultation, just to be on the safe side. Now
George, there's nothing you can do. I'll have Verona keep the ice-bag
filled--might as well leave that on, I guess--and you, you better beat
it to the office instead of standing around her looking as if you were
the patient. The nerve of husbands! Lot more neurotic than the women!
They always have to horn in and get all the credit for feeling bad when
their wives are ailing. Now have another nice cup of coffee and git!"

Under this derision Babbitt became more matter-of-fact. He drove to the
office, tried to dictate letters, tried to telephone and, before the
call was answered, forgot to whom he was telephoning. At a quarter after
ten he returned home. As he left the down-town traffic and sped up the
car, his face was as grimly creased as the mask of tragedy.

His wife greeted him with surprise. "Why did you come back, dear? I
think I feel a little better. I told Verona to skip off to her office.
Was it wicked of me to go and get sick?"

He knew that she wanted petting, and she got it, joyously. They were
curiously happy when he heard Dr. Patten's car in front. He looked out
of the window. He was frightened. With Patten was an im