He was out of the action. Tropile himself was nearly as badly off; the difference was that he continued to function. The words coming from him had seared like acid in his throat.
"They call me Wolf," he said aloud, reeling against the wall. "I will be one."
He unlocked the outer door and his wife was waiting, holding in her arms the things he had asked her to bring.
Tropile said strangely to her: "I am steel and fire. I am Wolf, full of the old moxie."
She wailed: "Glenn, are you sure I'm doing the right thing?"
He laughed unsteadily and led her by the arm through the deserted streets.
V
Citizen Germyn, as was his right by position and status as a connoisseur, helped prepare Citizen Boyne for his Donation. There was nothing much to it—which made it an elaborate and lengthy task, according to the ethic of the Citizens; it had to be protracted, each step being surrounded by fullest dress of ritual.
It was done in the broad daylight of the new Sun, and as many of the three hundred citizens of Wheeling as could manage it were in the courtyard of the old Federal Building to watch.