Thomas Wolfe: Of Time and the River, You Can't Go Home Again & Look Homeward, Angel. Thomas Wolfe

the matter?” he said warningly. “Don’t, fool!” His grin broke loose.

      Eugene staggered across the floor and collapsed upon a chair, roaring with laughter while his long arms flapped helplessly at his sides.

      “Scuse!” he gasped. “Don’t mean to — A-r-rt! Yes! Yes! That’s it!” he screamed, and he beat his knuckles in a crazy tattoo upon the polished floor. He slid gently off the chair, slowly unbuttoning his vest, and with a languid hand loosening his necktie. A faint gurgle came from his weary throat, his head lolled around on the floor languidly, tears coursed down his swollen features.

      “What’s wrong with you? Are you c-c-c-crazy?” said the sailor, all a-grin.

      Horse Hines bent sympathetically and assisted the boy to his feet.

      “It’s the strain,” he said knowingly to the sailor. “The pore fellow has become hysterical.”