"We've got hours, if you choose, in front of us."
"It's not a question of time," said he.
"Then, my good Andrew, what are you talking about?"
"Only that I must return to the place I came from, my dear friend. Let it rest at that."
She lit a cigarette. "Rather fatalistic, isn't it?"
"Four years of fighting make one so."
"You speak," said she, after a little reflection occasioning knitting of the brows, "you speak like the Mysterious Unknown of the old legends--the being sent from Hell or Heaven or any other old place to the earth to accomplish a mission. You know what I mean. He lives the life of the world into which he is thrown and finds it very much to his liking. But when the mission is fulfilled--the Powers that sent him say: 'Your time is up. Return whence you came.' And the poor Make-believe of a human has got to vanish."
"You surely aren't jesting?" he asked.
"No," she said. "God forbid! I've too deep a regard for you. Besides, I believe the parable is applicable. Otherwise how can I understand your 'for ever'?"
"I'm glad you understand without my blundering into an explanation," he replied. "It's something, as you say. Only the legendary fellow goes back to cool his heels--or the reverse--in Shadow Land, whereas I'll still continue to inhabit the comfortable earth. I'm as Earth-bound as can be."