Rufus Thallin leaned back in his leathern pilot seat and relaxed. He felt very, very tired. A clicking sound aroused him. He turned to see a space-clad figure emerging from the airlock.
The helmet came away and she emerged from the spacesuit like a butterfly from a cocoon.
"You—you didn't give me time," said Alyce Marshall, evading his eyes.
"Look here!" snorted Rufus Thallin. "There was plenty of time to get out of the lock. What were you doing in there all of that time?"
"Thinking," answered Alyce, folding the spacesuit neatly and putting it into place on a nearby rack. "And it was your own fault, Rufus Thallin. It was on account of what you did just before—before—
"Anyway, I was thinking that you had deliberately made me hate you all along. But you overdid it, Rufus. Did anyone ever tell you how closely related are the emotions of extreme hate and the emotions of extreme—"
"Extreme what?" demanded Rufus Thallin in incredulous amazement.
"We can pull through anything, Rufus, if we hold out—together."
"Together, Alyce?" he whispered. "You mean it that way? Why, together we could lick the universe."