Because of the nature of the time trap, she was unaware of the previous conversation, and her automatic reply to the unfamiliar voice was, "Ogden? You must have the wrong number. I don't know anyone by that name." "Don't you remember? I went to the University of Delaware with you. I remember you. You have blonde hair and--" "No. It's brunette." Hanging up the phone, he waited until the next cycle, dialed the number again and said, "Mary? This is Harry Ogden." "Ogden? You must have the wrong number. I don't know anyone by that name." "Don't you remember? I went to the University of Delaware with you. I remember you. You're a brunette about a hundred and thirty pounds and--" "Well, not quite that much." By calling dozens of times, he used the system to learn more and more about Mary Jeffers, until at last he knew enough to convince her within a few minutes that he was a friend from her college days whom she'd forgotten. As he talked with her during various cycles that totaled weeks, he began to feel as if she _were_ a friend, and the desire to see her in person increased. The sight of anyone would have done wonders to break the monotony, and she was the only possibility since all the other apartments were empty. "I have the apartment next to yours," he said during one time cycle. "Can I come over?" "I'm not dressed," she replied. "I was taking a shower. Give me time to get dressed." He glanced at his watch and saw that only four minutes remained in that cycle. He realized despairingly that there wasn't time for her to get dressed. All his efforts had been in vain: ten minutes wasn't long enough to phone her, go through the carefully memorized routine convincing her he was an old friend, wait for her to dress and open the door of her apartment. _It couldn't be done in ten minutes!_ * * * * * Boredom was like a hungry beast that breathed in his ears with a roar of silence while he sat through several succeeding cycles. _Silence._ It seemed to echo in his ears as he looked about the apartment. It seemed to whisper that he was losing the duel. The Martian's trap was working: he would sit and wait, and think, and think endlessly until they were wild thoughts and he was insane. And then, the Martian would have his revenge, for insanity was a form of walking death.... He made a decision. He had fought boredom legally and exhausted every method he could think of. If there were no more legal ways, then he would fight boredom _illegally_. The police couldn't reach him in ten minutes no matter what he did. Dialing Mary Jeffers' phone number at the beginning of the next cycle, he laid the receiver on the desk, ran across the room and climbed through the window. The stone ledge just beneath his window wasn't very wide, but by inching his way along it, he reached the open window of apartment 1403.