But the young assistant was stunned into staying by the huge size of the Social Control file that was carried by the next patient, Mr. Fallon, and his wife.
"I know just what you're thinking, Dr. Kalmar!" cried Mrs. Fallon distractedly, but with a nervously bright smile. "Those awful Fallons again! I don't blame you a bit, but—"
As a matter of fact, that was exactly what Dr. Kalmar was thinking, plus the defeated feeling that they were all he needed to make the day complete.
"Good Lord, what's in all those files?" Dr. Hoyt exclaimed.
Dr. Kalmar could have explained, but he didn't feel up to it.
Mr. Fallon, a wispy, shyly affable, poetic-looking chap, did it for him. "Papers," he said.
"I know that, but why so many?" Dr. Hoyt asked impatiently.
Miss Dupont seemed wryly amused as she watched his consternation.
"I guess you might say it's because I can't make my mind up," confessed Mrs. Fallon with an uneasy giggle. She was a big woman who might have gurgled over a collection of toy dogs on Earth, but here she was a freight checker and her husband was a statistician in the Department of Supply, though on Earth he might have been anything from a composer to a social worker. "No matter how often we rephysical Harry, I always get tired of his looks in a few months."