"I don't much care," said Guido roughly. "Man, I got to do something, don't I? If I can't help her, I got to do something." The minutes passed. No patrol car sirened at them. There was not, indeed, much traffic at this time of a Thursday. As they fled south, onto the old two-lane highway, the sky grew overcast. "Nuts," said Guido. "There'll be fog along the coast. We'll have to crawl. Let's turn back." "No," said Kintyre. "Keep going." Guido stole an indignant look at him. "Wait a second," he began. "Keep going, I said!" Kintyre roared it. Guido started. Then, shrugging, he gave his attention back to the road. "Is it that important?" he asked. Kintyre didn't answer because he didn't know. He sat hunched into passivity, not caring how fast they went or if they crashed. It shouldn't matter to him where he was taken. But it did. He couldn't tell why--_damn that fouled subconscious of mine, anyway!_ But it was like a hand upon him. Perhaps it was only that he had to get back for a while to the great shouting decency of the ocean. "You're a funny one, Doc," said Guido after a long time. "Aren't we all?" "You're crazy, even for a human being. I mean, you're the cat who's had the adventurous life, got the culture, made the big success--oh, yes, you don't get paid much, but you know damn well how far you've succeeded and how much further you can go--you're everything Bruce wanted to be. Hell, you're everything I wish I wanted to be. And you can't wait to die!" Kintyre said, jarred: "That isn't true. I'm just in a bad mood." "So am I, Doc, so am I. Think I dare let myself imagine about Corinna? Think I enjoy realizing how poorly I've shown up in the last few days? But I keep going. What is it makes you fold up?" Kintyre turned his face from the bluffs now humping up around him, toward Guido. There was a radiation of vitality from the other man; something had disfigured it, so that his days ran out in pettiness, but he would always be more alive than most. "Why do you stay around here?" asked Kintyre slowly. "Man, I like it." "Can't you see it's poison for you? As long as you stay where you were a child, you'll always be one. If you could get away, you'd have a chance to grow up." Guido reddened. "Thanks, Mother Superior." "I'm not trying to insult you. I'm only thinking, your trouble could be caused by a situation. A place. Did you get overseas in the Army?" "No, unless you count Alaska." "And of course it wasn't your kind of life. All you'd think about would be going home. But suppose you went somewhere else, someplace congenial--and stayed. I wonder if you mightn't feel like buckling down. You could still make a name for yourself, or at least a fair living, as an entertainer. If you'd try." "Go where?"