“Well, for one thing, by not rushing in and interfering with her little dream. By not letting either one of ’em see how anxious we are over this thing. By remaining as calm, cool and collected as we can.”
“And in the meanwhile?”
“Well, in the meanwhile I, for one, am going to tear off a few winks. I hurt all over and there’s quite a lot of me measured that way—all over.”
“You can go to sleep with that—that dreadful thought hanging over us?”
“I can and I will. Watch me for about another minute and you’ll see me doing it.” He settled himself on his air mattress and drew the blankets over him.
“Well, I know I won’t close my eyes this whole night through.”
“I’ve heard you say that before and then had to shake you like a dish towel in the morning to make you snap out of it.”
“This time I won’t. I don’t want to sleep. I want to plan something since you won’t help me. Hector”—she reached across from her side and plucked at his top coverlid—“Hector, listen, I’ve got an idea—let’s break off this trip tomorrow. Let’s bundle right up and start back East. You can say you’ve got a message calling you back to the office—say you forgot something important, say—”
“And tip our hands just at the most critical time! We will not!... Mmph!” With a drowsy scornfulness he added this. Ten seconds later he mmphed again, then again. But the third one merged into a snore.
Undeniably Mr. Hector Gatling could be one of the most aggravating persons on earth when he set out to be. Any husband can.