"They're all right," he would declare, nodding. "Look at that, Flora. Look at the way that fellow whipped right across there. By golly, you've got to hand it to the Full-wall people."
"Harry—where do they make the shows? The ones that show the beautiful scenery, and trees and rolling hills, and mountains?"
Harry was chewing. "Don't know," he said. "On location, I suppose."
"Then there really are places like that? I mean, they aren't just making it up?"
Harry stared at her, mouth full and half open. He grunted and resumed chewing. He swallowed. "I suppose that's another of your cracks."
"I don't understand, Harry," Flora said. He took another bite, glanced sideways at her puzzled expression.
"Of course they aren't making it up. How the devil could they make up a mountain?"
"I'd like to see those places."
"Here we go again," Harry said. "I was hoping I could enjoy a nice meal and then view awhile, but I guess you're not going to allow that."