He saw Joe's feet, planted on the floor, and he let his eyes move up, following Joe's body until he reached his face.
The smile was frozen there. A half-smiled smile frozen solid on Joe's face. "Books!" said Joe.
It was an obscene word. The way Joe said it, it was an obscene word.
As if one had been caught in some unmentionable act, surprised with a dirty thought dangling naked in one's mind.
"Joe—" said Jon.
"You wouldn't tell me," said Joe. "You said you didn't want my help. I don't wonder that you didn't ..."
"Joe, listen . . ."
"Sneaking off with books," said Joe.
"Look, Joe. Everything's all wrong. People like us made this ship. It is going somewhere. I know the meaning of the End . . ."
The wonder and the horror was gone from Joe's face now. It had gotten bleak. It was a judge's face. It towered above him and there was no mercy in it —not even any pity. "Joe!"