"No."
"Why?"
"Because things are past that." He looked up Madison Avenue toward nothing. "Way, way past that."
I smoked a couple of cigarettes.
Nothing happened. The sun went down a few more inches. I suppose the top of the parapet got cooler. Big, square shadows began to ride up the buildings across the street.
"Paul, come on in! Let's talk. You're in no condition to be doing what you imagine is thinking—and you know it! Anybody can put a period after his life, any time. What you need is a vacation. A decent one—with jack to spend—maybe at the seashore or up at Lake George. I'll give it to you. I'll persuade Brink you need the time off—"
He laughed—laughed like somebody masticating gravel. "All the dough in the world couldn't buy me off this perch."
"Nobody's trying to buy you. I'm trying to—"
"Oh, shut up. I want to think."
There was a light knock on my door, at that point. I opened it. A cop stood out there and a fireman behind him and Mr. Harrison behind them. The cop had a tough, smart face and he whispered. "Will he jump if we come in?"