"Not yet," said Bill, with all the ominous portent he could muster. "The planets are arsenals. Spaceships loaded with weapons and men. Earth is liable to be blown off the map anytime. We're getting out, me, Molly and the foxes."
The boss had never seen Bill so worked up, even after he'd muffed a sale. "So the world is going to the dogs," he mused. Then he grinned. "I bet you wish it would go to the dogs."
"Not a bad idea," said Bill morosely. "They'd do a heck of a lot better than man ever did."
The boss said cautiously, "What does Molly think about this?"
"The wife?" Bill's eyes glazed. "Oh. She does anything I want her to."
The boss went through the amenities. He shook hands warmly. "I don't know how we'll ever get a man to replace you—"
"Yeah, I realize that—"
"—I'd like to sell you on the idea of coming back—"
"Nobody's enough of a salesman for that."
"—but maybe it'll all turn out for the best!"