She'd come back to it, I knew. I moved in, to wait. I wasn't going home without her; I wasn't even sure I was going home with her. I was involved, now, in this planet, almost as crazy as the rest of them.
I sat. I did some drinking, but mostly I sat, going back over all our days, reading nothing, enjoying nothing, just remembering.
The Korean business started and the headlines grew uglier, and the jackals screamed and the people grew more confused.
One day, the maid told me I had a visitor. I was in the library and I told her to send him back.
When he came in, he closed the door behind him. I'd never seen him, before, but he said, "We've been looking for three weeks."
"We?"
"Thirty of us," he said. "What happened? Jars sent me."
"Oh," I said. "I can't come, now. I'm—married—"
He smiled. "If you knew what a mess it's been. We've got men all over the planet. Does your wife—know?"
"She thinks I'm crazy," I said. "Look, I—"