For a moment his hangover dominated, but then it all came back. "Good morning! I'm great!" he moaned.
"Stitchell and the new toxicologist think they have something to report," she said.
"So do I. Alcohol is positively not the answer."
"This is important. Your suggestion on the sulfa series seems to have paid off."
"I'll be right over," he said, "as soon as I amputate my head."
"Come down to the zoo. I'll be there."
The thought of a remedy that might relieve him was a fair hangover cure. He dressed quickly and even managed to swallow a little coffee and toast.
V
At the hospital, he went directly to the "zoo" in the basement. A knot of personnel, including Phyllis, Peterson, the toxicologist, and Feldman, opened to admit him to the cage under their inspection. A quick glance at the control cages showed no change in the undoctored monkeys. Males and females were paired off, huddling together miserably, chattering and sadly rubbing their heads together. Each couple eyed the other couples suspiciously. Even here, the overpossessiveness was evident, and Murt cringed from the pitiful, disconsolate expressions.