And Matt went.
Matt awoke the next morning alone, but a vague smell of perfume lingered, and the pillow next his was crushed. The sound of whistling came through the doorway.
He sprang out of bed, to discover that he was clad in a pair of his pajamas, of a pale robin's-egg blue—and raised his eyebrows.
He lit a cigarette and prowled about the luxurious chamber, opening doors and drawers. His clothes were hanging in one closet, but the other was full of fluffy feminine apparel. The same condition prevailed in the chests; one holding his own shirts, ties, socks; the other crammed with lacy underthings.
He ran his hands through his rumpled hair, blue eyes gleaming with interest. At length he went into the bath and showered and shaved. There was only one thing that troubled him.
The water that poured from the shower glowed like a spray of light with the minute phosphorescent organisms!
The alien amoebas had even invaded the subterranean pools.
"My sleeping beauty!" Lynn greeted him when he entered the breakfast room.
Matt eyed her appreciatively. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was wearing a crisp blue smock. The mouth-watering smell of frying ham and eggs invaded his nostrils.