“Please do what Doctor Baines ordered.” Mrs. Cowden, in spite of her iron control, was visibly at the end of her tether. The girl gazed about her as if in desperation, then went over to the east window and stood with her back to the room. Gamadge sat watching her, and then, while Mitchell’s benevolent voice continued to ask questions, which were followed by Mrs. Cowden’s prompt, taut replies, he got up and lurched across. She did not move when he propped himself against the window seat. After a moment he asked: “Why don’t you bite on it?”
She flashed a look on him, and looked away.
“When a thing like this happens,” he went on, “it’s bad for everybody. Nothing’s finer than being a sheltered member of the community, with friends among the traffic cops, and everybody falling over themselves
