with "Namur" beating in my head, the five men had their heads still
together, but whether "the other sex" was getting scientifically torn
to bits, or they, too, had Namur in their minds I never knew.




IV

THE DOCTOR'S STORY

AS ONE DREAMS

THE TALE OF AN ADOLESCENT


The next day was very peaceful. We were becoming habituated to the
situation. It was a Sunday, and the weather was warm. There had been
no real news so far as we knew, except that Japan had lined up with
the Allies. The Youngster had come near to striking fire by wondering
how the United States, with her dislike for Japan, would view the
entering into line of the yellow man, but the spark flickered out, and
I imagine we settled down for the story with more eagerness than on
the previous evening, especially when the Doctor thrust his hands into
his pockets and lifted his chin into the air, as if he were in the
tribune. More than one of us smiled at his resemblance to Pierre Janet
entering the tribune at the _Collège de France_, and the Youngster
said, under his breath, "A _Clinique_, I suppose."

The Doctor's ears were sharp. "Not a bit," he answered, running his