"You would be if you--" I started, and then I stopped. Arthur's
feelings were delicate enough already. I mean suppose that all you had
left of what you were born with was a brain in a kind of sardine can,
wouldn't you be sensitive? Well, Arthur was more sensitive than you
would be, believe me. Of course, it was his own foolish fault--I mean
you don't get a prosthetic tank unless you die by accident, or
something like that, because if it's disease they usually can't save
even the brain.
The phone rang again.
It was the desk clerk. "Say, did you get what you wanted?" he asked
chummily.
"No."
"Oh. Too bad," he said, but cheerfully. "Listen, buddy, I forgot to
tell you before. That Miss Engdahl you were expecting, she's on her
way up."