Ruth obeyed without argument. After the game he went quietly along to Union Station, where the team caught a sleeper home to Boston. The Red Sox defeated the Senators easily that afternoon, 6-1, even without Ruth, and Barrow was in a slightly better mood. He was in his compartment with Larry Graver, the club secretary, when there was a knock on the door.
"Who is it?" Barrow called out.
"It's me—Babe. Will you talk to me?"
Barrow motioned for Graver to leave.
"All right, come in." The door opened. Graver nodded at Ruth and ducked past him into the corridor. Ruth shut the door.
"Sit down," Barrow said.
Ruth sat. After a moment he said, "I'm awfully sorry about what happened today."
"You ought to be."
Ruth hung his head. Then he muttered, thinking almost certainly of the incident in Baltimore eight months earlier that had resulted in his father's death in front of the family saloon, "Ed, someday somebody is going to kill me."
Despite his anger, Barrow smiled.