come to me--except that I fan turn down those that don't interest
me."

"Then," I sighed wearily, "turn down the next one. I must have
rest. I'm going home to sleep."

"Very well," he said, making no move to follow me.

I shook my head doubtfully. It was impossible to force a card on
Kennedy. Instead of showing any disposition to switch off the
laboratory lights, he appeared to be regarding a row of half-
filled test-tubes with the abstraction of a man who has been
interrupted in the midst of an absorbing occupation.

"Good night," I said at length.

"Good night," he echoed mechanically.

I know that he slept that night--at least his bed had been slept
in when I awoke in the morning. But he was gone. But then, it was
not unusual for him, when the fever for work was on him, to
consider even five or fewer hours a night's rest. It made no
difference when I argued with him. The fact that he thrived on it
himself and could justify it by pointing to other scientists was
refutation enough.

Slowly I dressed, breakfasted, and began transcribing what I could
from the hastily jotted down notes of the day before. I knew that
the work, whatever it was, in which he was now engaged must be in
the nature of research, dear to his heart. Otherwise, he would