She struggled. "Because you can't," she said.
He took her home when the bar closed at midnight. The conversation was one he had engaged in with other girls but it still depressed him. He hopped the subway and went across the river to Camden, New Jersey, where they are more reasonable about the hours at which bars remain open.
The next morning he had a hangover. He was just pouring some tomato juice when someone knocked at his door.
"Just a minute," he said.
He opened the door. A man in a tweed suit stood in the hall. He had a relaxed, pleasant face and he smoked a pipe.
"Mr. Westing?"
"Yes?"
"I'm Dr. Cooper. May I come in?"
"I didn't ask for a doctor. I could use one but I haven't called one yet."