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But how? In what capacity? She had no idea. Susan debated whether she should just walk out. A mixture of curiosity and respect for the apparent irrationality of McLeary’s actions made her stay. She sat down, watching McLeary, who now couldn’t decide what to do. He too sat down and began nervously playing with an ashtray. Susan sat motionless. She wouldn’t have been surprised if the man cried.

She heard the outer office door opening. Voices drifted into the inner office. Then the inner office door opened. Without being announced or knocking, an energetic individual entered. He appeared like a businessman, in a smartly tailored blue suit. Reminding Susan of Stark’s attire, a silk handkerchief peeked out of his left breast pocket. His hair was carefully combed and frozen with a ruler-straight part on the left side. There was a definite aura of authority about the man; he exuded an air of assurance at handling a wide spectrum of problems.

“Thank you for your call, Donald,” said Oren.

Then he faced Susan condescendingly.

“So this is the infamous Susan Wheeler. Miss Wheeler, you have been causing a great commotion in this hospital. Are you aware of that?”

“No, I haven’t been aware of that.”

Oren leaned back on McLeary’s desk, folding his arms in a professional fashion.

“Out of curiosity, Miss Wheeler, let me ask you a rather simple question. What do you think is the major goal of this institution?”

“Caring for the sick.”

“Good. At least we agree in general. But I must add a crucial phrase to your answer. We are caring for the sick of this community. That might sound redundant to you because obviously we are not caring for the sick of Westchester County, New York. Yet this is an extremely important distinction because it underlines our responsibility to the people right here in Boston. As a direct corollary, anything that could interrupt or otherwise disturb this relationship to the community would, in effect, negate our primary mission. Now this may sound very ... what should I say

... irrelevant to you. But quite the contrary. I have been receiving complaints about you over the last few days which have grown from being irritated to intolerable. Apparently you are bent on specifically disrupting our carefully maintained relationship with the community.”

Susan felt color rising in her cheeks. Oren’s condescending manner began to irritate her.

“I suppose bringing to the forefront of everyone’s awareness that the chances of becoming a vegetable, of losing one’s brain, is very high, intolerably high, by being a patient here would ruin the reputation of the hospital.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, it seems to me that the reputation of the hospital is nothing compared to the irreparable damage suffered by these people. I have become more and more convinced that the reputation of the hospital deserves to be ruined if that’s what it takes to solve the problem.”

“Now, Miss Wheeler, you can’t be serious. Where would all the people turn ... all the people who are in daily need of the facilities in this hospital? Come ... come. And by glibly drawing attention to an unfortunate but nevertheless unavoidable complication ...”

“How do you know it’s unavoidable?” interrupted Susan.

“I can only believe what the chiefs of the respective departments assure me. I am not a doctor nor a scientist, Miss Wheeler, nor do I pretend to be. I am an administrator. And when I am faced with a medical student who is here to learn surgery, but instead spends her time calling attention to a problem which is already under investigation by qualified people such as Dr. McLeary here—a problem whose indiscreet disclosure has the potential to cause irreparable harm to the community, I am forced to react quickly and decisively. Obviously the warnings and exhortations you have already received to assume your normal duties have gone unheeded. But this is not a debate. I’m not here to argue with you. On the contrary, with all due respect, I thought it best to give you an explanation for my decision about your surgery rotation. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I will phone your dean of students.”

Oren picked up McLeary’s telephone and dialed.

“Dr. Chapman’s office, please. ... Dr. Chapman, please. Phil Oren calling.

... Jim, Phil Oren here. How’s the family? Everyone in our house is just fine. ... I suppose I told you that Ted’s been accepted at the University of Pennsylvania. ... I hope so. ... The reason I called is about one of your third-year students rotating on surgery, a Susan Wheeler. ... That’s right. ... Sure, I’ll hold.”

Oren looked at Susan. “You are a third-year student, Miss Wheeler?”

Susan nodded. Her nascent anger had melted into dejection.

Oren looked back at McLeary, who suddenly stood up, apparently bored.