Yes, I might say I have seen a good deal at the age of fiftyeight. I've been married, have grown children, and am not proud to say I'm a grandfather. My kids are raised, the wife has remarried. I have no filial responsibilities. There was a pretty little number about thirty years my junior whom I'd been seeing, but I was jilted by, of all things, a full-blooded American who practices Hinduism and thinks he's some sort of ascetic. He collects welfare— which my salary pays for— and claims he transcends being, a concept difficult enough to formulate, let alone attain. Of course he is thirty years younger than I am also, but he doesn't have half the drive and stamina. Well, then, let them have one another. Charlotte said to me at our final parting, "You're just too nervous for me to be around, Charles. You never relax. You're always on the go. What do you think you're accomplishing, anyway? Tom is so —

"Listen," I said. "Don't tell me about that hare-brained ascetic of yours who sits on his butt all day harmonizing with nature while I feed him. I've got a job to do, and it's not easy. I've got deadlines to meet."