Lieutenant Delancey laughed like a stage villain. "The law I mention," he said after a bit of belly-laughing, "was passed long, long ago before telepathy and perception were available to provide the truth. At that time the law took the stand that any unmarried couple living together would take advantage of their unchaperoned freedom, and if this state of cohabitation went on for a considerable length of time—called 'Massive' but don't ask me to justify the term—the probability of their taking pleasure in one another's company approached a one hundred per cent positive probability.
"Now this law was never amended by the Review Act. Hence the fact that you have been chastely occupying separate chambers has nothing to do with the letter of the law that says simply that it is not lawful for an unmarried couple to live under the same unchaperoned roof."
I came out of the shower toweling myself and manipulating a selection of clean clothing out of the closet in my bedroom.
"The law," I observed, "is administered by the Intent of the Law, and not by the Letter, isn't it?"
"Oh, sure," he said. "But I'm not qualified to interpret the law. I'll arrest you and bring you to trial and then it's up to some judge to rule upon your purity and innocence of criminal intent, and freedom from moral taint or turpitude. Maybe take weeks, you know."
"And what's the alternative?" I grunted.
"Flight," he said in a sinister tone as I came out of my bedroom putting the last finishes on my necktie. "Flight away from the jurisdiction of the law that proposes to warp the meaning of the law to accomplish its own ends."
"And you?"
"My duty," he grinned, "is to pursue you."
"In which case," observed Nora Taylor, "we might as well fly together and save both time and money."