“But I live in constant fear. Every day I expect that the president will drop in to my office and catch me in an explosion. I can’t talk to students. I get enraged over nothing.”
And Grein, who never wept, hid his face in his hands and wept like a child.
“There’s no cause for worry,” said Marvin. “All you need is a month or two at the shore. The war has worn on you. Your father fought with Siegel and was probably as nervous as Siegel in the saddle, but you have had to sit still while I did my best to kill your cousins.”
“They are dead,” answered Grein. “But I could have stood it if the patriots of this damned city hadn’t accused me of lending aid and comfort in the matter of chemicals. I don’t need to tell you—”
“No, darlin’, you don’t.”
“But I do! I do! It was a lie—a black, dirty—” and Grein sobbingly exploded into oaths.
Marvin’s weak heart was panting with indignant sympathy, but he listened until the smoke cleared away. Then he said,
“Quite so. Did the president stand by you?”
Grein wiped his eyes and looked up at the shining monument.
“Yes, or I’d have shot myself. But how can I go on being dean when I can’t control my nerves? I’m likely to curse my best friends. If I could only get you here, in line for the deanship!”