"But why so early?" said Smith. "Because, " said Braling. "Your first night out in years and you go home at ten o'clock." "Nerves, I suppose."
"Look, up there!" said Braling They both stared up through the dark air. In the window above them, on the second floor, a shade was raised. A man about thirty-five years old, with a touch of gray at either temple, sad gray eyes, and a small thin mustache looked down at them. "Why, that's you!" cried Smith
And then, the horrid thought. And then the terror and the loneliness engulfed him. And then the fever and disillusionment. For, without desiring to do so, he bent forward and yet forward again until his fevered ear was resting firmly and irrevocably upon her round pink bosom. "Nettie!" he cried. Tick-Tick-Tick-Tick-Tick-Tick-Tick-Tick-Tick-Tick
"Well, it's the cellar box for you, B-Two." Braling guided the other creature's elbow down the stairs to the cellar. "That's what I want to talk to you about." Said Braling Two, as they reached the concrete floor and walked across it. "The cellar. I don't like it. I don't like the toolbox."
"But I've wanted that trip my whole life," Said Braling quietly. He squinted his eyes and could see the sea and the mountains and the yellow sand. the sound of waves was good to his inward mind. The sun was fine on his bared shoulders. The wine was most excellent.
Ten minutes later Mrs. Braling awoke. She put her hand to her cheek. Someone had just kissed it. She shivered and looked up. "Why -- you haven't done that in years," She murmured "We'll see what we can do about that," someone said.