"It isn't so much that I mind her turning me down," Joe said, after a
silence. "A girl can't marry all the men who want her. But I don't like
this hospital idea. I don't understand it. She didn't have to go.
Sometimes"--he turned bloodshot eyes on Le Moyne--"I think she went because
she was crazy about somebody there."
"She went because she wanted to be useful."
"She could be useful at home."
For almost twenty minutes they tramped on without speech. They had made a
circle, and the lights of the city were close again. K. stopped and put a
kindly hand on Joe's shoulder.
"A man's got to stand up under a thing like this, you know. I mean, it
mustn't be a knockout. Keeping busy is a darned good method."
Joe shook himself free, but without resentment. "I'll tell you what's
eating me up," he exploded. "It's Max Wilson. Don't talk to me about her
going to the hospital to be useful. She's crazy about him, and he's as
crooked as a dog's hind leg."
"Perhaps. But it's always up to the girl. You know that."
He felt immeasurably old beside Joe's boyish blustering--old and rather
helpless.
"I'm watching him. Some of these days I'll get something on him. Then
she'll know what to think of her hero!"
"That's not quite square, is it?"
"He's not square."
Joe had left him then, wheeling abruptly off into the shadows. K. had gone
home alone, rather uneasy. There seemed to be mischief in the very air.