The girl said, "L-Larry—what did you say?"
"Beat it. Over in one of the other chambers—"
"No. I mean before that. You called me—" She flushed. That was one thing, Larry discovered, about these clothes of the future. A flush was a real flush, no halfway thing. It started from—
He said, suddenly gentle, "I called you 'darling.' Do you mind—darling?"
"I think," she replied softly, "it's the prettiest word I ever heard." Then she applied that fine feminine attribute for which there is no allowance in man's equations; a woman's logic. "But it is not the word to make me get out of here. I stay, Larry. Beside you—where I belong."
Larry protested, "Now, look here, Sandy—"
She merely smiled sweetly. "How," she asked, "do you operate this gadget? I might need to know, later on."
Larry gave up
