"Thanks, Jack—you needn't wait." At the hospital's door Kinnison rendered tribute to fast service and strode along a corridor. An express elevator whisked him up to the seventy-second floor, and there his haste departed completely. This was Nurses' Quarters, he realized suddenly. He had no more business there than—yes, he did, too. He found Room 7295 and rapped upon its door. Boldly, he intended, but the resultant sound was surprisingly small.
"Come in!" called a clear contralto. Then, after a moment, "Come in!" more sharply; but the Lensman did not, could not obey the summons. She might be—dammitall, he didn't have any business on this floor! Why hadn't he called her up or sent her a thought or something? Why didn't he think at her now?
The door opened, revealing the mildly annoyed sector chief. At what she saw, her hands flew to her throat and her eyes widened in starkly unbelieving rapture.
"Kim!" she shrieked in ecstasy.
"Chris—my Chris!" Kinnison whispered unsteadily, and for minutes those two uniformed minions of the Galactic Patrol stood motionless upon the room's threshold, strong young arms straining, nurse's crisp and spotless white crushed unregarded against Lensman's pliant gray.
"Oh ... I've missed you so terribly, my darling!" Clarrissa crooned. Her voice, always sweetly rich, was pure music.
"You don't know the half of it, Chris. This isn't real, I don't think. It can't be—nothing can feel this good!"
"You did come back to me—you really did!" she lilted. "I didn't dare to hope that you could come so soon."
"I had to." Kinnison drew a deep breath. "I simply couldn't stand it any longer. It'll be tough sometimes, but you were right—half a loaf is better than no bread."