and sat down across from me and watched, without saying anything.
I suppose what he felt would not have been proper to say to me.
We had both reached the point where adequate language failed us.
Finally he said:

"I wish I were dead."

"So do I," I retorted, jerking the thread.

"Where is she now?"

"Looking for more of these." I indicated the garment over the
pillow, and he wiggled. "Please don't squirm," I said coldly. "You
will wear out your--lingerie, and I will have to mend them."

He sat very still for five minutes, when I discovered that I had
put the patch in crosswise instead of lengthwise and that it
would not fit. As I jerked it out he sneezed.

"Or sneeze," I added venomously. "You will tear your buttons off,
and I will have to sew them on."

Jim rose wrathfully. "Don't sit, don't sneeze," he repeated.
"Don't stand, I suppose, for fear I will wear out my socks. Here,
give me that. If the fool thing has to be mended, I'll do it
myself."

He went over to a corner of the parapet and turned his back to
me. He was very much offended. In about a minute he came back,
triumphant, and held out the result of his labor. I could only