"Well-l-l," said she, judiciously, "there were some lamb chops that were the strangest things—"
He interrupted: "What are lambtchots?"
"Wait till you smell them. Then guess. I'll tell you this much. It's a smell hundreds and hundreds of years old. They found about it in the old books."
"Is a lambtchot a Beast?"
"I won't tell you. You've got to wait," she laughed, as she helped him sit down and spread his tasting dishes before him. He wanted to go back over the dinner first, sampling all the pretty things he had eaten, and savoring them this time with his now-living lips and tongue.
When Luci had found the Music Wire and had thrown its sphere up into the force-field, he reminded her of the new smells. She took out the long glass records and set the first one into a transmitter.
"Now sniff!"
A queer frightening, exciting smell came over the room. It seemed like nothing-in this world, nor like anything from the Up-and-Out. Yet it was familiar. His mouth watered. His pulse beat a little faster; he scanned his Heart box. (Faster, sure enough.) But that smell, what was it? In mock perplexity, he grabbed her hands, looked into her eyes, and growled:
"Tell me, darling! Tell me, Or I'll eat you up!"
"That's just right!"