"I just phoned the police," auburn-hair said, coming out. "I—wha—"
"Stand still," said Horner. "Better yet, let's go inside." He turned to his wife. "Listen, Jane. The cops. I'll have to run. There's no way of proving—well, you know. But I want you to come with me. I love you."
"I couldn't go with you. Like this. Twice your age. I—"
"I don't want you to. You like this girl's looks? She's very pretty—"
"Now wait a minute!" shrieked auburn-hair.
"You wait. I don't know how many suckers you trapped in convict's bodies. You deserve whatever you get—like, for example, losing twenty years."
Jane said, "But—but what is wrong with growing older the way we're growing older?"
"Nothing," Horner told her quietly, "if we'd allowed ourselves to live. But we didn't. We just existed, always promising to do the things tomorrow—the things we always wanted to do—which somehow we never got around to. If you live, there's nothing wrong with growing old. But we haven't lived. And now, now Jane darling, we have a second chance. Jane—will you?"
She looked at him. There were tears in her eyes. "Yes," she said finally. "Oh, yes, Hugh!"