Hank said, "Now, Helen, don't git in there yet! It ain't quite finished, an'—"
She ignored him with magnificent aplomb. "I'm glad one of us has good common-sense," she said. "If you're going to be an inventor, someone has to keep an eye on you to make sure your inventions are practical.
"Just as I thought! These cushions aren't at all comfortable. They're not wide enough, either. Get in here, Jim. Beside me—that's right! And you, too, Hank. Now do you see what I mean? These seats should be lots wider—"
Hank said nervously. "All right, sweety-pie. Now let's go see a nice movie or—"
"And what," continued Helen blandly, "is this tiny key for? A glove compartment? Let me see inside—"
Hank stiffened like a strychnine victim. His eyes bulged, and his voice exploded in a sudden roar.
"Don't touch that! Helen, don't—!"
He spoke a split second too late. Already the key was turning. Freezing in my chair, I heard a thin, whining hum from the time-machine's motors. The framework shook, and I was suddenly aware that where about us, a moment before, we had seen a brightly illumined bedroom, now there was nothing but flickering mists of gray ... wavering ... bottomless ... formless....
"Dagnab it!" cried Hank. "Oh, dagnab it to blazes! Now you've went an' did it!"