his office was larger than the other, and much more comfortable. The man seated behind the desk seemed friendlier too.
"May I help you?" he asked.
"Yes," I said slowly. "The man at the ticket office told me to come here. I wanted to see about getting a permit to go back to Earth...."
His smile faded. "For yourself?"
"Yes," I said woodenly. "For myself and my wife."
"Well, Mr...."
"Farwell. Lewis Farwell."
"My name's Duane. Please sit down, won't you?... How old are you, Mr. Farwell?"
"Eighty-seven," I said. "In Earth years."