"Hurry!" she cried. "I can't hold it much longer." She lurched into him and he put an arm around her waist.
And then they were through the lobby and into the silent street. No curious spectators were lingering to stare at the drying patch of dirty brown in the gutter beyond the awning.
"This way!" she cried.
As they fled on the pressure weakened. She was running fleetly at his side now, her brow unfurrowed, and yet he knew that she was still holding the shield under terrific pressure.
"In here," she gasped, suddenly turning into a narrow alleyway. "Stop!" she said. She half dragged him down to the pavement behind a row of packing crates.
"They'll be right after us!" he panted.
"No. Listen. Follow my lead. I think I can blanket us, if you help me."
Parr felt the warmth of her thoughts around him, and then they began to go up beyond his range and he had to strain to stay with them. Underneath her thoughts his mind began to quiet, and, in a moment he felt—isolation.
"Help, here," she said.