"We'll forget it," George told him. "We'll forget all about it. Now just go home and behave yourself—and no drinking on duty, eh officer?"
"Yeah. Yeah, sure." The cop went out the door, still staring at his hand.
In a moment, Arl was back. Narka looked at him, and George had seen that look in Myra's eyes yesterday at their bungalow. Arl took his wife's arm in a firm grip. "We're going home," he said.
She looked dubious, but then she rubbed her posterior, and she smiled ruefully. "Yes, m'lord." Arl shook hands with George, waved to Myra—and then they disappeared.
George smiled. "Let that be a lesson to you, dear."
Myra kissed him, shyly. They had been married for six years, but it was a shy kiss.
"I don't need any lesson, George."
"No more Fort? No more psychokinesis?"
"No more, if you say so, George."
"I say so."