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Show 28 Eight By morning Robeck is chilled, and breathes with a wheezing sound. He moves only slowly from the bed; he ignores his usual exercises, wraps himself in a heavy bathrobe, makes his way slowly towards the kitchen. Annis is already there, soaking the dishes from last night's dinner; she is startled by the illness in Robeck, by the stoop in his shoulders, his paleness, the shuffle of his gait, the listlessness of his face. A rasp of gray stubble appears around his chin; his breathing jss&jfcSL. She pulls a chair out for him at the table; he sits uncomfortably in i t . She heats the coffee again; she cuts toast into the triangles he would have made himself, and brings them to him. "I'm sorry about the dream," she says. " I t wasn't a dream." But he will not, or cannot, talk about it. The next day is the same, only when he rises the vagrant gray stubble on his chin is a little more unsavory, and the stoop and shuffle in his gait more pronounced. The appointment with Collings is a disaster; Robeck sits impassive on a chair, saying almost nothing, and Collings says that he cannot represent them or even advise them in any such endeavor. He suggests psychiatric help, but Annnis urges him towards the door. "We are old," she says. "That's what you don't seem to understand." "That doesn't make it any different," answers Collings. "What you have in mind is wrong." "We don't think so," says Annis, closing the door. |