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Wrenn was afraid of being hypnotized. "No, no!" he throbbed, rising. "Well, all right!" snarled Charley, "if you like to be Gogie's goat.... Oh, you're all right, Wrennski. I suppose you had ought to stay, if you feel you got to.... Well, so long. I've got to beat it over and buy a pair of socks before I go back." Mr. Wrenn crept out of Drubel's behind him, very melancholy.
For a time he was able to laugh at himself, and he made pleasant pictures Charley Carpenter telling him a story at Drubel's; Morton companionably smoking on the top deck; Lee Theresa flattering him during an evening walk. Most of all he pictured the brown-eyed sweetheart he was going to meet somewhere, sometime.
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