The next day, Humility and Pride were playing bumper pool in the television room when the phone rang. Pride answered.
“Fame! But what—how could? Yes? Oh, just fine, I guess. I’m fine. Sure.”
The conversation stumbled along, and from what Humility could gather, was all surface level till the end.
“Fame,” Pride said at last, “I can’t believe the way I acted at Cruel’s that night. I’m sorry about your arm. No, I really had to say something about it. Well, thanks for calling.”
A long pause, while Pride listened intensely.
“Uh, are you sure? Look, it might not look good for you to come here. Technically, I’m still a prisoner. Well, OK, sure. Yeah...goodby.”
Pride replaced the receiver and turned to Humility. “She said she would come visit me when she can find time,” he said weakly. “I think she wants to get back together with me.”
Humility winced. “She couldn’t mean it,” he said. “Don’t—don’t do it.”
“I don’t want to,” Pride said, walking back and forth in agitation. “I’m afraid of going through that all over again. She drives me crazy. I can’t handle her. No, not again! Oh, I’ve got to sit down.”
He fell in a chair. “Why didn’t I say no? But I can’t, don’t you see? How could I say no to her? I’m in love with her. Just hearing her voice makes me a nervous wreck.”
He ran his fingers through his hair and rocked back and forth. “I’ll do it all over again, I know I will. I’ll expect too much of her and make myself miserable. I can’t just let her be. Oh God, what am I gonna do? I can’t sit down.”
Reeling to his feet, he paced the room.
Humility’s eyes suddenly brightened. That old fox Grace! Surely the Ambassador had arranged this in order to box Pride into a corner. The effect of Fame’s call was the opposite of what anyone would expect. Pride looked like a hunted thing.
“What’ll I do?” he asked Humility. “I’m too upset for anything. Look at me, I was too nervous to sit down and now I’m too weak to stand up.” He rubbed a hand across his face. “What’ll I do?”
“Better get outside help,” said Humility, and as he got down on his knees, he gestured for Pride to do the same.
“I don’t even believe,” Pride protested, but he lowered himself like an exhausted man getting into bed. “This is just a psychological thing to calm me down,” he mumbled.”
Humility prayed that the burden be taken from Pride, and then added, “Your turn, pal.”
Pride took several deep breaths with his eyes closed. “I’m not fit to have her,” he said. “I’m just completely incompetent to handle her. You take her.”
They prayed for several more minutes, and at last Pride lifted a fresh, relaxed face. “I feel better,” he said. “It works.”
“He works,” Humility corrected.
Pride knitted his brow. “Uh, yeah, but—but if I say that, then—then I’ve crossed the line. It’s—”
“So cross it.”
“No. No, nothing is proven. I feel better, but that can be explained psychologically, I’m sure.”
“Open up, man! He’s here. You know it.”
“I don’t know it. I won’t know it. I don’t have to do anything. I just feel better and I’ll be happy with that.”