Where, heedless of the flying hoof
And clamor overhead,
Sleep, with the grey langur for guard,
Our very scornful Dead.
If you love me as I love you,
All Earth is servant to us two."
He paused again.
"That's it," said John.
"That's a hell of a thing to be thinking about now," said Brennan.
"I know it," John returned.