Marc glanced at the radio. "You've ruined it!" "You ruined it yourself. Though I will say that if you hadn't, I had every intention of taking a meat axe to it." "And to me, too, I dare say. A nice way for a wife to go on to a husband who has cherished and protected her." "Oh, stop it, you ninny," Julie said. "Stop carrying on as though I'd murdered you." "I'd have preferred to be murdered," Marc said, shuddering with pain. "Stop crouching like that," Julie said. "And stop holding yourself in that suggestive way. You look like a child with uncertain habits. Straighten up." Marc considered the matter of straightening up; never had he felt so strongly the need to rise to his full height. He relinquished his grip on himself and tried to unbend. Instantly he fell back into the crouching position with a cry of pain. "I can't!" he cried. "I can't straighten up!" Julie's expression swiftly undertook a series of transformations ranging from suspicion to chagrin to abject contrition. "Of course you can," she said anxiously. "Try." "I can't, I tell you!" Marc gritted. "And it serves you right. As a matter of fact I hope I stay this way, and you have to spend the rest of your days explaining to everyone how it happened. You've dislocated my sacroiliac, that's what you've done, you brutish female!" "Oh, no!" Julie gasped. "Oh, Marc!" She ran toward him. "Get away from me!" Marc snarled. "Don't you touch me, you Judith Iscariot!" "Oh, dear!" Julie wailed. She held our a hand. "I'll get a doctor, the one down the block. Don't do anything. I'll be right back." She started toward the door. "Tell him how it happened!" Marc called after her spitefully. "Tell him how you kicked your own husband in the...!" But the door slammed as Julie hurried out of the house and down the steps. Marc returned his hands gingerly to his pulsing bottom and stared gloomily at the floor. "Damn!" he said. "Damn, damn, damn!" * * * * * The doctor strapped a final length of adhesive across Marc's back and helped him into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. "It may be tender for a day or two," he said. He helped Marc into his pajama coat. "You'll be all right, though. You can have Mrs. Pillsworth take that tape off for you at the end of the week." "I'll wear it to my grave," Marc snapped, "before I'll permit that woman to touch me again." "Now, now, Mr. Pillsworth," the doctor temporized. "You'll feel better in the morning." He turned and picked up his case. "I imagine those sedatives will take care of everything for tonight." "Thank you, doctor," Marc said gratefully, and sank back rigidly on the bed. Lying down, held stiffly by the tape, he was forced to watch the doctor from the corner of his eye. "Goodnight, doctor." "Goodnight." The doctor nodded from across the room and opened the door to leave. Julie was revealed wringing her hands in the hallway. She stepped forward.