A plump arm slid around him and Sharon Froman's voice said in his ear, "Try to sit up. We all felt better after we sat up." She supported his back and eased his trunk upright; he thought his head would explode. He leaned against her dizzily and felt her cool palm against his forehead. "Better," he grunted. "Thanks." The burgess's old voice said abruptly, "Sing a psalm for Sam Zehedi, the sad Syrian. Bess? Bess?" "He's wandering," Sharon said very softly to Mickey Groff. "He won't sleep." Mrs. Chesbro moved across the floor to the sound of the burgess's voice. "Where are you going, Polly?" Arthur Chesbro snapped. "To the poor old man," she said. "Maybe I can talk him into signing the lease before he takes wing." Now, what did she mean by that? They didn't have a pen, there would have to be witnesses, Groff was right there to break things up if they tried to pressure him, it wouldn't work in a million years. The stupidity of that woman was sometimes absolutely astounding. She found the bony bundle that was Burgess Harry Starkman. "How little we know ..." he was mumbling. "I was at Belleau Wood, you know. Leatherneck couple wars back. They poured gas shells in for forty-eight hours, but the leathernecks didn't have gas casualties. Court-martial for gas casualties. Not like the doughboys, threw away their masks. Got through Belleau Wood and here I am a gas casualty anyway, thirty-seven years later. Ambushed in Hebertown Township. The boys at the Legion'll get a kick out of that." He sat up abruptly and anxiously called out: "Bess?" She soothed him and urged him down. "Rest," she said. She felt and unbuttoned his shirt, loosened the blanket around her and spread it over the two of them, pressing herself against his bare chest. "I remember," he said. "King Solomon. Old reprobate. But don't go away, child." He fell into an uneasy doze, his breath rattling in his chest. She pressed herself against him and lay still and silent. Dick McCue said, "I wonder if it's safe to smoke." Mrs. Goudeket snapped: "In a situation like this you don't take chances." Groff said slowly, "I think it's all right. Gas fumes are heavy; they hug the ground. If we hadn't been sleeping on the floor--" "I guess I'd better not," McCue said uncertainly. "You can't smell much up here but--I wonder where the water level is now." "We'll know in the morning," Chesbro said. "Couple of hours. My God, who would have thought it yesterday?" Sharon Froman said, "It's bad, Mr. Chesbro. It means a permanent loss of industry--unless we move fast." "What permanent loss?" Chesbro snapped. "We shovel out the mud, we replace the machines, we get going again. The government'll help any sound business in a case like this." "I am thinking," she said, "of the South." "The South? What's the South got to do with this?"