"Very well. Good night again." The two men went toward the door. Pell watched them quietly. He had lied. He wasn't sleepy at all. He just wanted to get home and sit by that viewer and hope, hope against hope, that it would ring and that Ciel's lovely image would swirl into view.... * * * * * On the way home he was just the least bit tempted to go topside, however. He thought he might like to walk the broad, quiet boulevards under the stars. His brain functioned better there. The tunnels were so clean and bright and sterile, so wonderfully functional and sensible, that they oppressed him somehow. Maybe, he sometimes thought, he wasn't fit for this age. Maybe he should have been born a couple of hundred years ago. But common sense told him that people in _that_ age must have often thought exactly the same thing to themselves. He looked at his chrono and decided he had better go home. The apartment, when he came to it, was cold and empty without Ciel. He bathed and tried to keep up his spirits by singing in his tuneless way, but it didn't help. He went back into the living room, selected a film from the library and slipped it into a lap projector. He sat down and tried to concentrate on the film, a historical adventure about the days of the first moon rockets. He couldn't follow it. The viewer rang. He bounded from the chair as though he had triggered a high speed ejection seat in a burning jet. He went to the viewer and flicked it on. The plate shimmered, and then Ciel's image came into focus. "_Baby!_" He was certain his shout overmodulated every amp tube in the entire World City viewer system. But he felt better, wonderfully better, already. She was smiling. "Hello, Dick." "Hello." And then they looked at each other in affectionate embarrassment for a moment. "One of us," said Pell, "ought to have his script writer along." "Dick, I don't know exactly how to say what I want to say...." "Don't. Don't say anything. Just pretend nothing ever happened. Just come on home fast as you can." "No, Dick. Not yet. I still want to talk about--well, everything. Dick, we've got to reach some sort of compromise. There _must_ be a way." "Come on home. We'll find a way." "Not home. Too many memories there. Besides," she smiled a little, "I don't trust us alone together. You know what would happen. We wouldn't get _any_ talking done. Not any sensible talking anyway. You'd better meet me someplace." He sighed. "Okay. Where can I meet you?" "How about the Stardust Cafe?" "Again? That place didn't help us much the last time." "I know, but it's the handiest. I'm sure we can find a quiet place. Out on the terrace or something." "Is there a terrace?" "Yes, I think so. I'm sure there must be." He looked at his chrono. "All right, baby. Half an hour?" "Half an hour."