Oernoon he had e to meet Antonapoulos at the fruit store when Charles Parker handed him a letter. The letter explaihat Charles Parker had made arras for his cousin to be taken to the state insane asylum two hundred miles away. Charles Parker had used his influen the town and the details were already settled. Antonapoulos was to leave and to be admitted into the asylum the , week.
Singer read the letter several times, and for a while he could not think. Charles Parker was talking to him across the ter, but he did not even try to read his lips and uand. At last Singer wrote otle pad he always carried in his pocket:You ot do this. Antonapoulos must stay with me.
Charles Parker shook his head excitedly. He did not know much Ameri. None of your business, he kept saying over and over.
Singer khat everything was fihe Greek was afraid that some day he might be responsible for his cousin.
Charles Parker did not know much about the Ameri language—but he uood the Ameri dollar very well, and he had used his money and influeo admit his cousin
to the asylum without delay.
There was nothing Singer could do.
The week was full of feverish activity. He talked and talked. And although his hands never paused to rest he could not tell all that he had to say. He wao talk to Antonapoulos of all the thoughts that had ever been in his mind a, but there was not time. His gray eyes glittered and his quick, intelligent face expressed great strain.
Antonapoulos watched him drowsily, and his friend did not know just what he really uood.
Then came the day when Antonapoulos must leave. Singer brought out Ms own suitcase and very carefully packed the best of their joint possessions. Antonapoulos made himself a lunch to eat during the journey. Ie afternoon they walked arm in arm dowreet for the last time together. It was a chilly afternoon in late November, and little huffs of breath showed in the air before them.
Charles Parker was to travel with his cousin, but he stood apart from them at the station. Antonapoulos crowded into the bus aled himself with elaborate preparations on one of the fros. Singer watched him from the window and his hands began desperately to talk for the last time with his friend. But Antonapoulos was so busy cheg over the various items in his lunch box that for a while he paid no attention. Just before the bus pulled away from the curb he turo Singer and his smile was very bland ae—as though already they were many miles apart.
The weeks that followed didnt seem real at all. All day Singer worked over his ben the back of the jewelry store, and then at night he returo the house alone. More than anything he wao sleep. As soon as he came home from work he would lie on his cot and try to doze awhile. Dreams came to him when he lay there half-asleep. And in all of them Antonapoulos was there. His hands would jerk nervously, for in his dreams he was talk- ing to his friend and Antonapoulos was watg him.
Siried to think of the time before he had ever known his friend. He tried to ret to himself certain things that had happened when he was young. But none of these things he tried to remember seemed real.
There was one particular fact that he remembered, but it was not at all important to him. Singer recalled that, although he had been deaf since he was an infant, he had not always been a real mute. He was left an orphan very young and placed in an institution for the deaf