"Must have been quite a persuader, that Serpent," McBride went on in dream talk. "Up until this morning I guess I might have welcomed such a one, and I don't think I was alone in feeling that way. Men were never intended to live the way we were living. We really didn't want to live if we had to live that way. We only convinced ourselves that we did. We were caught in a hellish vise and each of us knew it, underneath. So a talking serpent who could convince us that the fruit of Venus was not poison might not have been such a bad idea." "Why talk about that?" said Flaunders, like a man talking in his sleep. "It's over. We've beaten Venus." McBride tried to open his eyes. It was too much trouble. His own words seemed to him like someone else talking, far away and unreal. There was a feeling like being detached from one's body. "Beaten Venus, yes," he said. "But I'm wondering how. I keep thinking how this kind of poison acts. Probably affect us as it did the rats and monkeys. Takes four or five hours to act, and it hasn't been three since we started eating. Was it only chance that your treatment of the food took all day and had to be extended up to the last moment before serving? It wasn't even sampled before three hours ago. And so I wonder." Flaunders' voice seemed to come out of a deep well. "Let's get some sleep." McBride's voice almost matched it. "Not yet. I haven't mentioned about the medical supplies we brought along. Even drugs. It would have been simple for the welcome serpent to treat the food with something to deaden pain, to make us sleep through it." His voice trailed off in sleep, his thoughts drifting away with the night. Still the question wouldn't go away. It forced him partly awake. He didn't even realize how little of a question it was now. His body was a chunk of lead, not able to move. To speak required almost more effort than he could muster. "Flaunders. You didn't. It's just fatigue, letdown after strain. I know you won't lie if I ask you. All I want is to hear you say you didn't." Flaunders wouldn't have tried to move if he could. He lay on his back with his hands folded on his chest. Appropriate. "Goodnight," he said.