"But suppose it works?"
"Wow. Then the steam-fitters would envy me."
"Well it sure oughtta do something. You've been tinkering with it for—how long? Couple years?"
"About four I guess, off and on. Sometimes I get to wondering what it'll do if it does do anything."
"Show us Lillian Russell, maybe, or Little Egypt!"
"There's a million possible results when you go fooling around with the structure of the universe, Carl. I guess that's what fascinates me. A little learning is a dangerous thing, they say. Dot's afraid I'll blow us up."
"Well—she could have something there!"
"The thing probably won't even toast a piece of bread. But I'd rather fool with it than collect buttons or play bridge or some other damfool thing, so...."
The blue sedan sloshed up the puddled drive-way to the new nine-room bungalow and at the porch Doug Blair got out. A wind had sprung up and the dampness suddenly grasped his body, clung, as though he were naked.
"Time for a drink, supper?"