"And that is work for a man like yourself?" Deborah looked at him doubtfully. "Somehow it seems to me dishonest," she told him. "Ye'r taking unfair advantage." "And what is fair in love and war?" he countered. "'Tis a wicked and foolish saying--or so my mother has told me," the girl replied. "But you'll do it--you darling!" He pulled her close to him and she made no resistance. They were still locked together when a throat was cleared in the doorway. Dr. Phillips regarded them benignly. "I must say," he remarked, "that compared to some of the lewd sights I have witnessed here in Belvoir, it is refreshing to see a couple as well-favored as yourselves embracing. But that was not the purpose of my visit. I have come to say farewell." "Then it's coming soon?" Justin asked him quickly. "Perhaps you two have been too--er--occupied to hear but the five-minute signal sounded a brief while ago. I wish you both good luck." Deborah broke from Charles, ran to the elderly don and planted a buss on his cheek. He fluttered like a moth, visibly touched, said, "Thank you, my dear," and added quite irrelevantly, "'Twill be a great relief to return once more to my breeches." "Come quickly!" Deborah whispered when they were once more alone. He needed no urging, raced on tiptoe behind her to her cubicle. Hurriedly she scrambled onto her portable bed, reaching for Justin as he climbed on from the other side. There was scarcely room for both of them. She whispered, "Charles, I'm afeard." "We're together, darling," he whispered back. She was silent for a brief while. Then she whispered, "Have ye no children?" "None," he replied. "Marie has no wish to spoil her figure." For some reason this seemed to dispel both Deborah's jealousy and guilt. She held him closer still and murmured, "Poor Darling Charles. No wonder ye dreamt of other women." "No wonder ..." he replied, scarcely knowing what he said. For at that moment sleep crept over him irresistibly. Once again he was in the extinct odd little train, emerging from the choking tunnel. Miraculously, rumpled nightgown and all, Deborah was with him. Her blue eyes were red with smoke and she was coughing and frightened. She managed to gasp, "What is it--what is this horrid thing?" He held her close and said, "It's a part of my dream, darling." Even as he spoke and wondered how and why his dream should be dominant it changed. The rectangular windows of the old wooden coach grew indistinct. The car roof seemed to grow dimmer, finally to vanish altogether. Against the starlit black of space were outlined the spars and ropes and masts and sails of a full-rigged sailing ship. They stood on its gently rocking poop and forward and below Justin could make out the waist and, beyond, the rise of the forecastle and the sharp lift of the sprit from the bow.