“Little Jane Barnes. Well, she’ll do.”
“I’ll say she will.”
The doctor, watching him as he walked back and forth, said, “The thing to do is to map out a normal day. Make it pretty close to the program you followed before the war. You haven’t happened to keep a diary, have you?”
“Yes. It’s a clumsy record. Mother started me when I was a kid.”
“That’s what we want. Read it every night, and do some of the things the next day that you did then. You will find you can stick closer than you think. And it will give you a working plan.”
Evans sat down and discussed the idea. It was late when he rose to leave.
“It will be slow,” was Hallam’s final admonition, “but I believe you can do it. And when things go wrong, just honk and I’ll lend you some gas,” his big laugh boomed out, as they stood in the door together. “Nasty night.”
“I have a lantern.” Evans picked it up from the porch.
When Evans reached home his mother called from up-stairs, “I thought you were never coming.”