ell. Go to the door, and keep remembering that of your own free
will you are passing from this plane to the next."

"Look out, everybody!" Bill called raucously, as he pulled open the
door. "I'm coming in on the next plane!"

No one laughed.

He stepped over the threshold, shutting the door firmly behind him. A
wonderful excuse to get away from those blasted women. He'd climb out of
the window as soon as he'd collected the whiskey and give them a nervous
moment thinking he'd really passed into another existence. It would
serve Gloria right.

For a moment, as he crossed, he had a queer sensation. Maybe there was
something in what Professor Falabella said. But no, there he was in the
study. All that mumbo jumbo was getting him down, that was all. He was a
nervous man--only nobody appreciated the fact.

Taking a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket, he reached for the
lighter on his desk. It wasn't there. Time and time again he'd told
Gloria not to touch his things, and always she'd disobeyed him. Company
was coming and she must tidy up. Cooking and cleaning--that was all she
was good for. But this was carrying tidiness too far; she'd even removed
the ashtrays.

And where did that glass block paperweight come from? He'd had a penguin
in a snowstorm and he'd been happy with it. This was too much. He'd tell
Gloria off. Stealing a man's penguin!

He opened the door into the living room and bumped into Lucy Allison.
"Don't you think you've been in there long enough, Bill?" she asked
acridly. "I'm sure your guests would appreciate catching a glimpse of
you."

"Why, hello, Lucy," he said, surprised. "I didn't know Gloria had
invited you--"

"Gloria, Gloria, Gloria!" Lucy cut across his sentence. "You've been
talking about nothing but that dumb little blonde for months." Because
of the people in the room beyond, her voice was pitched low, but her
pale eyes glittered unpleasantly behind her spectacles. "I wish you had
married her. You'd have made a fine pair."

Gently, caressingly, the short hairs on the back of Bill's neck rose.

"Come back in here," Lucy said, hauling him back into the living room
where a number of people who had been enjoying the domestic fracas
suddenly broke into loud and animated chatter. "Dr. Hildebrand was
telling us all about nuclear fission."

"Can't find an ashtray," Bill muttered, seizing on something tangible.
"Can't find an ashtray in the whole darn place."

"We've been over this