“Yes. Off, Jim.”
It was well toward dawn when I hooked up with him; together we flew up the river, where on the Tappan Zee, at the northern borders of the city, Dr. Weatherby had his home.
Alice was under the landing stage when we descended in the hand lift.
“Len, Jim, I’m glad to see you.” She gave each of us one of her cool white hands. “Grandfather is waiting to—Jim, let go of my hand; you’re squeezing my fingers. That hurts!”
He flung it away. He had always done that with Alice, to devil her.
“Next time,” she said soberly, “you bow to me. That’s all.”
He laughed gleefully. “Right. Sure, that’s safer when you look so pretty.”
She was indeed pretty. A tall, slender girl—an inch taller than Jim. Big, serious blue eyes she had, and that braided mass of ash-blond hair. She was dressed now in a pale blue jacket like a tunic, to her thighs, and long silver stockings from beneath the China-silk trousers that flared above her knees.
She smiled at Jim. “I’d never take you seriously. Dolores says—”