TOM looked at them all. Whom should he talk to? he wondered. Or should he talk to any of them? There was no longer in him the same drive about the problem. In some way he did not yet understand, his talks with Sandy and with Betsy had boiled off some of the urgency. And yet, the problem still was urgent. Ricky still meant to bring it up at caucus, and Tom still had to know what his own response would be. It was with something of a shock that he realized that he did not know—but the fact was that he did not. And he did not even know why he was uncertain. The problem had seemed so clear when Ricky had first mentioned it; but now, now it was not clear at all.
Tom waited until they all had washed off the dust of the road and combed their hair and changed their dresses. In the meantime, he mixed them cocktails ready for their return. And when they had once more assembled, he let them trade around the items of the day's news. It was not until he saw Pete wander off to gaze out the window at the gathering sunset that he made any move.
When he saw that Pete was alone, he went over to stand beside him. "What do you know, Pete," he said.
Pete turned to face him. "Hi, Tom. You look puzzled tonight. Not your usual fatherly self. What's up?"
Tom shrugged. "It's this Marcia business that's bothering me," he said. "Ricky's going to caucus it tonight, and I been trying to figure it out."
"What's his rush?" Pete asked. "Or is Ricky just being impetuous?"
"No," Tom said. "There's a reason for it. Graves has got to make his arrangements soon, so he's been putting the pressure on for us to decide quick. If we don't decide tonight, we are apt to be left out."
"Oh?" Pete's voice was noncommittal.
"What do you think of it?" Tom asked. "Should we take her in or not?"