"I see." There had been a very slight accent on the "present". Did it mean anything? And if so, what? "Well, I can rewire it for you, use standard stuff, it won't look pretty but it might work, only what should I use? I don't know what it needs—high voltage cable, or bell wire; shielded or open. I've got to know what you've got in these black boxes here—" he pounded gently on one, "before I know what to feed them."
He snapped his cigarette into a corner, gloomily watched the smoke curl up from it for a moment, then walked over and stepped heavily on it. "So that's it," he said definitely. "I've been fooling with this thing all day, and that's just exactly as far as I can go. It's up to you people, you can give me the dope, I can't promise anything even then, except just to try; or you might as well pay me off. I can hang around here and put in more time, but you won't be getting anything out of it."
Brown studied his fingernails absently. "Perhaps you are right," he said slowly. "However, I cannot act without consulting with Mr. Smith, and he has gone into town to get some food for you, I am sure you must be hungry. When he returns, I will let you know our decision."
"OK." Dolan mopped at his face with his handkerchief. "God, it's hot as an oven in this shack," he said. Miss Jones smiled in sympathy, though she looked cool enough.
"Come on, Miss Jones, let's get outside and cool off a bit."
"I think that would be nice," she agreed.
It was just turning dusk outside, and there was an agreeable breeze coming up the valley. They walked over and sat down on a rocky ledge.
"Tell me, Miss Jones," he said suddenly, "do you like it here?"
"It's very pretty," she said. She looked out toward the ridge with the sunset colors fading behind it. "Much nicer than the city."
"No, no," he said brusquely, "that's not what I mean. I mean, do you like it here, in our world?"