"But I feel stifled, shut in!"
"The ship is large, Frankston. We all crowd into this section because, without each other, we'd go mad." James kicked the edge of the magazine on the floor. "Thank God we're not allergic to decontaminated paper. There's still reading."
"We're getting old," said Gregory. "Some day one of us will be here alone."
"God help him then," answered James, with more emotion than was usual for him.
During the latter part of the conversation, the little red signal had been flashing persistently. Finally James saw it. Ross was in the outer lock. James threw the decontaminator switch and the signal winked out. Every trace of dust and pollen would have to be removed from Ross's suit before he could come inside the ship.
"Just like on an alien planet," commented Gregory.
"Isn't that what this is to us—an alien planet?" asked Frankston, and neither of the other men dared answer his bitter question.
A few minutes later, Ross was back in the cabin, and James helped him out of his spacesuit.
"How are the geraniums, Ross?" asked Gregory.