I moved over to the side of the bed. Sandra Birks came in, and said, anxiously, “What is it, Bleatie? Are you feeling all right now? The doctor left this sedative to give you if you get nervous and—”

“Nix on that God damn cooing,” Bleatie said. “You always did put on that solicitous air when you wanted something. Christ Almighty, I’m your brother. I know you like a book. I know what you want. You want to get the name of Morgan’s girl out of me. You want to serve papers on Morgan. You want to get a divorce. You want to be free to marry your latest sweetie. Who is he? That young squirt of a doctor? I’ve got my suspicions about him.”

“Bleatie!” she said. “Don’t!” and glanced apprehensively at me. “You mustn’t talk that way. You’ve been through a nervous shock, and you’re upset and—”

“Upset, hell!” he interrupted. “Any time a man can’t be twisted around your fingers, it’s because he’s upset and isn’t himself—well, I don’t blame you. Now look here, Sandra. You and I are going to have a showdown. You’re my sister. I suppose I should be loyal to you. It also happens that I’m a friend of Morgan Birks. Just because he’s down at the moment, is no sign you’re going to jump on him with both feet.”

“Who wants to jump on him with both feet?” she countered, her eyes beginning to glint. “I’ve given him all of the breaks in that divorce complaint. My God, the things I could have said about him would—”

“Wouldn’t have done you a damn bit of good,” Bleatie said. “Think of the things Morgan could say about you. Look at you! You never can forget your sex. I get my nose busted and damned if you don’t have to drag in your current boy friend—or one of your current boy friends—to practice on me. That young squirt ain’t dry behind the ears yet, and you drag him in—”

“Bleatie! You stop,” she said. “Archie Holoman is a fine young man. Morgan knows him. He’s a friend of the family. There’s absolutely nothing between us.”

His laugh was cynical. “So Morgan knows him, does he? And he’s a friend of the family? You know what that means? Just because he comes to the house and shakes hands with your husband and smokes his cigars, makes him a friend of the family, does it? How about the times you see him when Morgan ain’t around?”

“Bleatie,” she said, “you cut that out or I’ll start doing a little talking. You’re no tin angel yourself. You make me sick with this holier-than-thou attitude. If you want to sling mud, I’ll scoop up a handful. That little—”