"Don't talk like a damn fool! Shakespeare—Divina commedia——"
Dorothy twisted in the narrowness to put both arms around him. "Doc—quiet, dear—please——"
"I can remember pages of Huck Finn—a few pages!"
Dorothy was wiping his face with a loose comer of her jacket. "Doc—subside! Please now—make it stop hurting inside yourself. Oh, quiet...."
After a time he said lifelessly, "Go on with the inventory, Paul."
"Well—there's a duplicate of that map Ed made yesterday from orbit photographs of this area, about a hundred miles square. We're near the eastern edge of that square. There's the other map he made of the whole globe. We didn't duplicate that one. I guess that's about it."
"Knives," Wright muttered. "Knives and a few tools."
"The firearms may make a difference while they last."
"Yes, perhaps. But thirty years from now——"
"Thirty years from now," said Dorothy, still sheltering his head, "thirty years from now our children will be grown."