George and Alice Fuller had arrived, after fifteen years of marriage, at one of those periods that arrive at intervals to all—couples and individuals—of asking, What the hell is it all for? Instead of waiting like sensible people for the whole thing to blow over and amusing themselves in the meantime by making each other miserable, they decided to take time out and try to answer the hard question.
So George announced that he wouldn’t teach in summer school. When he still refused after he was offered more money, his friends began to worry about him. Perhaps he was going to write a book? No, it wasn’t that either. Research? No. Travel? No. By then his friends had run out of questions and abandoned him to his folly.
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