The girl shrugged. "You're entitled to try," she said. She passed a hand across her face wearily. "You've heard and reheard our conversation as verbatim as I recall it. And it was an experience I will not forget easily."
"Agreed," said Moray, walking to the west window and looking out. "I guess we're all overkeyed."
Cauldron grumbled a bit. "There have been a lot of strange things happening," he said. "This isn't the first."
Virginia smiled wanly but it was Cauldron who spoke next after a short pause. "And at five-thirty in the morning, everything begins to get somewhat distorted from a mental standpoint."
Moray turned from the brightness of the sky and mumbled something about life's lowest ebb occurring just before dawn.
Then he added, "Why did this mess have to happen? Blast it, everybody that knew swore up and down that the possibility was nil."
"Not nil enough," said Cauldron.
"No," agreed Virginia. "But that's life."
Moray slammed his fist down on the window-sill and swore. "That's life," he echoed in a mocking tone. "Well, I don't like it!"
"Who does?" demanded Cauldron quietly.