Was this a home for that twenty-year-old girl upstairs?
Lane opened the door and went out.

He was relieved to find the taxi waiting.

To the driver he gave the address of his home and said: "Go slow and don't give me a jar!" But Lane reached home, and got into the house, where he sat at the table with his mother and Lorna, making a pretense of eating, and went upstairs and into his bed without any recurrence of the symptoms that had alarmed him.

In the darkness of his room he gradually relaxed to rest.

And rest was the only medicine for him.