or
all that he still possessed his exceptional powers. And he seldom
now indulged in pranks.

Except for Jennifer Parkey.

It was unusual that he should be drawn to her. He knew her only
slightly in the common world and she was at least fifteen years
his senior. But now she appealed to him for her youthful
qualities, and all his pranks with her were gentle ones.

For one thing this spinster did not frighten, nor did she begin
locking her doors, never having bothered about such things
before. He would come behind her and stroke her hair, and she
would speak out calmly with that sort of quickening in her voice:
"Who are you? Why won't you let me see you? You are a friend,
aren't you? Are you a man, or are you something else? If you can
caress me, why can't you talk to me? Please let me see you. I
promise that I won't hurt you."

It was as though she could not imagine that anything strange
would hurt her. Or again when he hugged her or kissed her on the
nape, she would call: "You must be a little boy, or very like a
little boy, whoever you are. You are good not to break my things
when you move about. Come here and let me hold you."

It is only very good people who have no fear at all of the
unknown.

When Vincent met Jennifer in the regular world, as he more often
now found occasion to do, she looked at him appraisingly, as
though she guessed some sort of connection.

She said one day: "I know it is an impolite thing to say, but you
do not look well at all. Have you been to a doctor?"

"Several times. But I think it is my doctor who should go to a
doctor. He was always given to peculiar remarks, but now he is
becoming a little unsettled."

"If I were your doctor, I believe I would also become a little
unsettled. But you should find out what is wrong. You look
terrible."

He did not look terrible. He had lost his hair, it is true, but
many men lose their hair by thirty, though not perhaps as
suddenly as he had. He thought of attributing it to the air
resistance. After all, when he was in the state he did stride at
some three hundred miles an hour. And enough of that is likely to
blow the hair right off your head. And might that not also be the
reason for his worsened complexion and the tireder look that
appeared in his eyes? But he knew that this was nonsense. He felt
no more air pressure when in his accelerated state than when in
the normal one.

He had received his summons. He chose not to answer it. He