"Oh, don't I?" His wife laughed wildly. Grey hair fell across her forehead in snarled disarray. "Maybe I know more than you think, Doctor Raymond X. Horning! I've read those things you wrote—all that craziness about the other worlds. But I didn't know why you wanted to go there till now."
Horning fumbled with the transdimensional registration unit's straps. Unslinging the bulky case, he lowered it to the floor. He dared not trust himself to speak.
But Myrtle closed in upon him, clawing at him. "Admit it!" she shrieked. "Go ahead! Tell me to my face you'd rather have that—that slut than me—"
Horning wheeled. His hands shook. "Myrtle, I've taken every word from you that I intend to," he said tightly. "Get out of my laboratory! Now! This instant!" Myrtle's nails raked at his eyes.
Before he could recover from fending off the blow, she had snatched Margaret's picture from his pocket.
"I'll show you!" she cried, shrill and strident. "I'll let you see what I think of her, the dirty little tramp!"
She spat full in the face of the picture.
Horning hit her.
She lurched back two tottering steps, tripped, and sprawled on the floor.