The space sled drew a thin line of silver fire through darkness as he debated that point.
"Now that I'm sober, I'll think about it. Give me time. They say a man can get used to to anything."
A ghostly choking sounded from the seat beside him. He wondered if Charley had blown something.
"Do they say what girls have to get used to?" she asked, her voice oddly tangled.
Tod Denver tempered the wind to the shorn lamb. "We'll see how the workings pan out. I'd want my money to last."
What Darbor replied should be written on asbestos.
heir idyl at the mines lasted exactly twenty-seven hours. Denver showed Darbor around, explained some of the technicalities of moon-mining to her. The girl misused some precious water to try washing the alley-filth from her clothes. Her experiment was not a success and the diaphanous wisps of moonsilver dissolved. She stood in the wrapped blanket and was too tired and depressed even to cry.
"I guess it wasn't practical," she decided ruefully. "It did bunch up in the weirdest places in your spare spacesuit. Have you any old rag I could borrow?"