And he tried to explain, until he thought she understood.
He was tired, then. She located food in the house, and he found money in a wallet in which the identification card said simply Douglas Blair, Senior Quadrate of Games.
But everything was changed—everything. Not just himself, not just Dorothy. A whole world. All on another thread, that had started back somewhere, much further back. Through history, there had been so many ifs....
In a little while she lay beside him, and they slept.
They had intended to begin the search for materials to build another contraption, but before he was fully dressed, from somewhere, there was a soft tinkling sound. It was repeated, signal-like, from a far corner of the room. It came from what could only have been an extremely simplified, compact version of the telephone, installed integrally with the ample arm of a lounging chair.
"Shall I?" he hesitated.
"Be careful...."
Doug lifted the slender receiver. "Blair," he said.
"Quadrate Blair, sorry, sir, that the liberty was taken to disturb you at your home. However, because of the urgency of this morning's conference at your offices, it was considered wise to remind you of the time it is planned to convene, as per Instruction 43-A. May you be expected at 1100 hours, sir?"