"Then I guess it's got to be done." He looked anxiously up at Roger, who just at that moment appeared very old.
"Don't worry, Mr.Gale," he said.

"Somehow or other we'll carry you through." "Thank you, sir." Roger rose heavily, feeling weak, and took his departure.
"This is war," he told himself, "and I've got to look after my own." But he had a sensation almost of guilt, as upon his return to his office he saw those suddenly watchful faces.

He walked past them and went into his room, and again he searched for ways and means.

He tried to see his business as it would be that autumn, to see the city, the nation, the world as it would be in the months ahead.

Repeatedly he fought off his fears.
But slowly and inexorably the sense of his helplessness grew clear.
"No, I must shut down," he thought.
* * * * * On his way home that evening, in a crush at a turbulent corner he saw a big truck jam into a taxi, and with a throb of rebellion he thought of his son-in-law who was dead.