"For some reason," he murmured, "that begins to seem strikingly unimportant."
"I've been here for half an hour," she said.
"I suppose life is like that. I wouldn't keep you waiting on my doorstep for half an hour."
"You don't really have to keep me waiting on anyone's doorstep for half an hour."
After an instant, he brought out a cigarette of his own and lighted it and took his time over the job.
"I suppose," he said carelessly, "you wouldn't be hinting that we might go and get a drink and maybe gnaw a bone somewhere."
"No," she said. "But a man with a car is an awful temptation these days. How's your gas ration?"
"Very healthy," he said. "How is your conscience?"
She stood up, and sent her firefly spinning on one last incandescent trajectory out into the street.
"Starving."