The cloud of whitish vapor spurted from the space-suit's outlet in an icy stream. For just an instant Allers stood motionless as the blast of semi-liquid oxygen struck him. A howl of agony broke from his lips, the wrench fell from his half-frozen fingers. Then, crimsoned features strangely set, body rigid, Allers toppled to the floor.
"Ken!" Joan whispered. "Ken, you ... you're all right?"
"O ... okay!" His gaze lingered on her piquant features, with their firm, level eyes, brave set of chin. "You know," he said slowly, "I believe that crack on the head knocked me silly. So silly that for a moment I actually believed you wouldn't mind if I ki...." He paused as Miller and the rest of the crew pounded excitedly on the massive outer door of the airlock.
"Let them wait," Joan Conway said peremptorily, "and finish what you were saying!" Then, as he hesitated, "Orders, Mr. Grant!"
"Aye, aye, Commander," Grant grinned. "I was going to say I believed you wouldn't mind if I kissed you. Like this!"