"Yes," I said, "I see. The more you are a full part of this world, the farther away you will be from that other one--and Stanley." "That's it." "I hope so. Lord, I hope so. You come along down with me this morning. We'll get you a job if we have to kill someone to make a vacancy ... Jonesy, that--that thing, spiders, snakes--you are sure it was real? It was actually here, I mean? And might come back if Stanley can make the way--in force?" "Yes, Ed. You didn't really have to ask, did you?" "No," I said. And that's it and that's all. * * * * * Since then--well, Jones is working for the paper. He got to be assistant circulation manager in less than a year. He is as respectable and non-skid-row a citizen as there is in town. Has a girl; getting married next month. Me? I'm the same, maybe a little better. I go every other week to visit my kids and Jennie, my ex, has taken to staying around now. We even talk a little bit and, last time, I took her some flowers and she blushed like a bride. Something might even come of it--given enough time. I have checked back on the Yard a few times but so far, at least, nothing more than the standard rack-up of ordinary horrors. I am not going to check any more. What for? Such a thing as Stanley's friend, you couldn't fight, and I wouldn't know what direction to run. If those things ever find a way over here, where would they be coming from? I don't know. From inside, maybe, Jones says. How do you run from that? Best, I think, forget it. I intend to try. And, so help me, I am through with skid row. Who wouldn't be? End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Little Man Who Wasn't Quite, by William W. Stuart