"Brian," Kenny added with a sniff, "was sure you could swing it. I never was. You need balance and a sense of responsibility."
Don gritted his teeth and worked in an inexhaustible spurt of endurance.
"Stop wandering around the room and kicking things," Kenny commanded more than once with his own hand clenched in his hair. "If you don't remember, you don't remember, and that's an end of it. Here's the book. Look it over while I'm smoking."
Once when the clash had a suspicious ring of familiarity, he grinned.
"What's the matter?" demanded Don huffily. "What are you laughing at? Me?"
"No," said Kenny. "I was just thinking of a man I know. Name's Whitaker."
Thus May came with a warm wind of spice and fresh misgivings furrowed the doctor's brow.
"Now that the windows are opened so much," he fretted, "the rumble of that quarry is inferno. The blasts bother him?"
"He jumps," said Joan.
"I thought so. He must have peace and quiet. If Mr. O'Neill is willing, we'll move him to the farm."