"You needn't be, Ket."
"Why needn't I be? Turn around here."
"You've got a wife, Ket," she reminded and, as she did so, she recollected what she had seen through the window near the lake.
"I wouldn't have if she'd let me loose," Ket retorted. "But she wants to hang on. Is Adele the big trouble with you?"
"No."
"What is? The rest of 'em? Aren't you going to turn around?"
She did not answer, and she did not turn, and he commanded: "Come out here. I want you. There's nobody like you. The whole raft of the rest aren't you. You come out here or I'll—"
He started for her and she spun about, catching at the door to close it and, as he rushed at her with his arms out, one of his arms went outside the door, one went inside and he struck his forehead on the door's edge.
He dropped at the bump and sat on the floor dizzily and swore at her as blood welled from the broken skin.
"Oh, Ket, Ket!" she cried miserably, and she ran to the bathroom for a towel and water and brought them just as he was getting to his feet. He refused any aid from her and strode to the bathroom and washed.
When he emerged, the blood was staunched and he was holding himself with dignity.
In the large room, which was furnished not unlike his own, an elaborate radio set stood on a table and he went to this and twisted the dials.
"You want to get a station?" she asked.
"What d'you suppose I'm doin'?"
"Western stations'll be the only ones going now," she
