The secretary sat in numb collapse, but Jasperson prowled the room, up and down, up and down, past the rows of empty seats, while Davis sat and watched him with glittering eyes. Jasperson's head was aching, and he was aware, all at once, that he was out of breath, as though he had been climbing a steep hill under a broiling sun.
"Have to see to this," he muttered. "They can't treat me this way." Stumbling, he lurched down the aisle towards Davis, staggering like a drunken man.
"Got to have more air, Davis. This won't do."
Insolently, Davis got up and looked at the oxygen indicator set in the wall.
"Needle's falling a bit. I'll turn on another tank." He touched the switch, then sat down again.
Jasperson began to laugh.
"What's so funny?"
With shaking hand he pointed, laughing harder, his sagging cheeks quivering as he roared.
"It's those chairs! Ever see such silly chairs? The way they sit there, and look at you?"
"Hey, man, you're drunk! I wonder...."