"Well, I'll leave you two with him," Memphis said. "I hope everything will be all right."
"Thanks so much for calling me," Julie returned.
As the door closed with a snap, Marc struggled valiantly against a driving impulse to open his eyes ... one of them at least ... just a little.
"Smell the liquor, doctor?" Julie was saying. "This sort of thing has never happened before. I just don't understand it. If what Miss McGuire tells me is true, he's been behaving like a regular hoodlum."
"Sometimes," the doctor replied, "they just snap all of a sudden. There's no telling what sets them off at all. It might be anything."
The footsteps came closer and Marc felt a hand on his shoulder. It shook him gently. "Wake up, dear," Julie's voice cooed. "It's Julie."
Marc opened his eyes and looked up guiltily. Julie's anxious face was just above his own, smiling a tragic little smile. And just beyond her shoulder there was also the face of a man, studious and intelligent in a musty, smug sort of way. Marc disliked it on sight.
"Do you feel very awful?" Julie asked.
Marc nodded. "Yes, dear," he murmured wanly. "Terrible."