Rhona glanced to the left, and so did Hank and Edith. Rhona made a
little sound, and Edith seemed to stop breathing, but Phil went on a
while longer, not yet aware of his supposed _faux pas_.

"You know why?" he repeated, turning to the back seat, the laughter
rumbling up from his chest. "You know why, folks?"

Rhona said, "Did you notice Carl Braken and his wife at--"

Hank said, "No, Phil, why is it the most popular place on earth?"

Phil said, "Because people are--" And then he caught himself and waved
his hand and muttered, "I forgot the punch line."

"Because people are dying to get in," Hank said, and looked through the
window, past the iron fence, into the large cemetery at the fleeting
tombstones.

The car was filled with horrified silence when there should have been
nothing but laughter, or irritation at a too-old joke. "Maybe you should
let me out right here," Hank said. "I'm home--or that's what everyone
seems to think. Maybe I should lie down in an open grave. Maybe that
would satisfy people. Maybe that's the only way to act, like Dracula or
another monster from the movies."

Edith said, "Oh, Hank, don't, don't!"

The car raced along the road, crossed a macadam highway, went four
blocks and pulled to a stop. He didn't bother saying good night. He
didn't wait for Edith. He just got out and walked up the flagstone path
and entered the house.

* * * * *

"Hank," Edith whispered from the guest room doorway, "I'm so sorry--"

"There's nothing to be sorry about. It's just a matter of time. It'll
all work out in time."

"Yes," she said quickly, "that's it. I need a little time. We all need a
little time. Because it's so strange, Hank. Because it's so frightening.
I should have told you that the moment you walked in. I think I've hurt
you terribly, we've all hurt you terribly, by trying to hide that we're
frightened."

"I'm going to stay in the guest room," he said, "for as long as
necessary. For good if need be."

"How could it be for good? How, Hank?"

That question was perhaps the first firm basis for hope he'd had since
returning. And there was something else; what Carlisle had told him,
even as Carlisle himself had reacted as all men did.

"There are others coming, Edith. Eight that I know of in the tanks right
now. My superior, Captain Davidson, who died at the same moment I
did--seven months ago next Wednesday--he's going to be next. He was
smashed up worse