"Will you promise," I asked, "to abide by my decision?"
He kept on looking at me, his lips trembling in their fixed grin. "No!" he said. "Never! You'll change your mind some day—you must! We'll go back, then—I'll make you go back! Lorelei—" He collapsed, sobbing, his head sunk in his arms.
I knew that what he said was partly true. Some day, when I slept, as I would have to within months, he would go down to the control room, set the keys for the return, and lock the combinations of the doors behind him again. Sooner or later, in spite of me, The Avenger would go home. There was only one thing to do.
He was still slumped in his chair, his body shaken by his sobs. I rose silently, and stood for a moment looking down at him. It was best that it happen now; it was what he would have called "mercy."
I extended my arms, looking at the corded, black-furred length of them. I looked down at him once more, saying a silent farewell; and then I clasped his gray head, very quickly, between my hands.