"News?" Charley said, with a sudden sick feeling.
"In New York," Santa Claus said. "There's a doctor there—a man who can help people like you. He has a new technique. I was reading in the papers just the other day—there was a man injured in a railroad accident, who lost one arm and one leg. This doctor used him as his first subject."
"He said he'd find another one," Charley put in without thinking.
"Another?"
"It doesn't matter," Charley said. "You were going to suggest that I go and see this doctor. Is that right?"
"Well," Santa Claus said, seeming oddly embarrassed, "it can't hurt, you know. And it might help. Really it might. And then ... then you might not have to ... have to be the way you are, and do what you do."
Charley took a long breath. "I'll think about it," he said, in the very politest tone he could manage.
"I only want to help," Santa Claus said.
"I'm sure you do," Charley said. "And thanks."
"If there's anything I can do—"