Ninon's arms stole around his neck. "The lights," she whispered, "and a little automatic warning to tell you when it's time to go...."
The boy did not seem to remember about the third click. Ninon was not quite ready to tell him, yet. But she would....
Two hours later a golden-voiced bell chimed, softly, musically. The lights slowly brightened to no more than the lambent glow which was all that Ninon permitted. She ran her fingers through the young spaceman's tousled hair and shook him gently.
"It's time to go, Robert," she said.
Robert fought back from the stubborn grasp of sleep. "So soon?" he mumbled.
"And I'm going with you," Ninon said.
This brought him fully awake. "I'm sorry, Ninon. You can't!" He sat up and yawned, stretched, the healthy stretch of resilient youth. Then he reached for the jacket he had tossed over on a chair.
Ninon watched him with envious eyes, waiting until he was fully alert.
"Robert!" she said, and the youth paused at the sharpness of her voice. "How old are you?"