"You wouldn't kid an old friend. That martini you were putting away the other night said that it was an experiment with something called tired light."
"Exactly. Television."
"Look, the quality of curiosity is not strained, it droppeth as a gentle ten-ton truck from twenty stories up! You said—or the martini said anyway—that if this little gimcrack of yours works, it'd be able to bring back pictures of things that happened in the past. You're guilty until proven innocent, Galileo. Start talking."
"Off the record—"
"I should broadcast it and get dunked in a witch's chair."
"Well—the martini had it a little balled up, but the essential idea's there I guess. Anyway, it isn't everybody who has a space-warp for a household pet."
"Or Einstein for a hobby."
"Blah, this is strictly Blair. That's why it won't work, and I'd be only sensationally nuts if I ever thought it would. But some men take Scotch for their nerves, and I take Scotch with electronics. More of a jolt that way."
"Yuk, yuk."