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exchange greetings with the fellow from the alcoholics place, Paul Henninger, who was passing at the time. Alice had a lunch of canned pork and beans on the table.
    He was afraid to try eating. "I think I'll go over to Clermont's," he said.
    Alice nodded her approval. "Yes. I think you should."
    On stepping out of the house, George saw Clermont across the street and called his name, then hurried over to him. The doctor looked at his tongue and scowled at him like Lincoln pondering a presidential crisis.
    "Hmm. You are having a rough time of it, aren't you? Nerves, I suspect. Now what's causing the nerves?"
    "I don't have any reason for jitters." Except a few I can't tell you about, George silently added.
    "No problems with your fishermen?"
    "Nothing I can't handle."
    "What about those politicians commandeering your boat for pleasure trips?"
    "Well, that used to bug me, but I've learned to live with it. I mean, after all, it's their boat."
    "Is something wrong at home, then?"
    George hesitated before answering. There had been a time, back in the States, when he had considered seeing a doctor or a marriage counselor about his worsening relationship with Alice. There could be something wrong with him, he had thought. Now, though, he knew the fault was not his, and he was reluctant to discuss it.
    Not that a discussion of his problems would embarrass him. Nothing like that. Clermont, after all, was at least sixty and must have talked to a lot of folks about sex problems. He'd be understanding, anyway—he was that kind of guy. But there was Danielle André to think of.
    He would have to mention Dannie if he got into any discussion of his sex life, and, of course, Clermont knew her. Everyone in Dame Marie knew everyone else. Certainly everyone knew the teachers at the school.
    No, he'd better skip the home-life bit.
    Changing the subject when he failed to get an answer, the Dame Marie doctor said, "Do you dream much, George?"
    "Dream?"
    "Some of us get pretty violent, you know. Throw ourselves out of bed, that sort of thing. I had a patient once who broke his wrist against the wall, flailing out against an imaginary attacker."
    "I don't have any dreams like that."
    "Hmm. Well, there's got to be something behind your tongue-biting. Your digestion okay?"
    "Nothing wrong there."
    "You complained of headaches once. Still having those, are you?"
    "Well, yes. But I'm taking aspirin at bedtime now, and they're not so bad."
    Clermont scowled again. "George, how about coming in for some tests?"
    "What kind of tests? What do you think is wrong?"
    "I'd rather not guess. Let's try to find out."
    "You don't have an idea, even?" George was beginning to feel desperate again. Lately he had felt that way often. "I can't go on like this, getting no decent sleep. And if I keep on biting my tongue like this, I could get cancer, couldn't I?"
    "Come and see me for some tests."
    "When?"
    "How about Monday morning? And come alone this time, eh? Not that we'll be doing anything we don't want your wife to know about, but I believe you'll feel more free to talk if she isn't with you."
    George nodded in agreement.
    Feeling a little sorry for George Benson, Dr. Clermont continued on his way. It must be rough, being married to a woman like Alice Benson. George was an all-right fellow, an easygoing man whose friendship you felt was genuine, but those very qualities probably made him vulnerable to a creature like her. She'd been making him miserable ever since their arrival in Dame Marie nearly a year ago, Clermont was positive. But she was so clever at it, and so damned attractive physically, that most of their friends felt sorry for her.
    Ah, well, one couldn't solve all the world's problems in a day, and he had Ginny Jourdan to think about. She was a problem he had to solve quickly, and right now he should be talking to her teacher.
    Ginny's teacher, Danielle André, had come to Dame Marie from Cap Matelot. In the beginning she had lived at the school. But not