It wasn't until he'd been working in the travel office almost six months that she came by and told him they were from one of the big plays downtown. She had seen it and had come all the way to his office to tell him. That made him feel very good.
"Listen, if you don't get a clerk in there. You're all jumpy. That's why you keep hearing that singing."
"Edie, I told you—that's got nothing to do with it," Harry Freed said.
"The man said there was absolutely nothing wrong with the radio. Nobody else hears any singing. I never get it on the set upstairs."
"I know what I heard, that's all. Four times now."
"You're just getting sicker, that's all that proves."
"Honey, I don't think you should say things like that."
"Yeah? Well, I don't think you should hear voices either. Why don't you see a doctor? My God, consider somebody else's feelings for a change. How do you think it would make me feel, having a husband everybody knew was mentally ill? Around this town? That never occurred to you, did it? You're too busy thinking of yourself. I try to get you to go to a doctor. I worry about it until I'm practically sick myself. But, oh no, you're all right. You just hear voices, that's all. So you don't care what anybody else is going through. Not you."
Harry sat very still. Then slowly he stood up. "Put your coat on," he said.