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. I'll make a fast inspection and we'll shove anything
we've missed out into the corridor, then figure out what to do with it after
they turn out the lights."
"How about that bonsai tree?" Gwen was eyeing my rock maple, some eighty
years old and only thirty-nine centimeters high.
"No way to pack it, dear. And, besides, it requires watering several times
a day. The sensible thing is to will it to the next tenant."
"In a pig's eye, chief. You'll carry it by hand to my compartment while I
drag the baggage along behind."
(I had been about to add that "the sensible thing" has never appealed to
me.) "We're going to your compartment?"
"How else, dear? Certainly we need a bigger place but our urgent need is
any sort of roof over our heads. As it looks like snow by sundown."
"Why, so it does! Gwen, remind me to tell you that I'm glad I thought of
marrying you."
"You didn't think of it; men never do.**
"Really?"
'Truly. But I'll remind you, anyhow."
"Do that. I'm glad you thought of marrying me. I'm glad you did marry me.
Will you promise to keep me from doing the sensible thing from here on?"
She did not commit herself as the lights blinked twice and we were suddenly
very busy, Gwen in putting everything out into the corridor while I made a
frantic last go-around. The lights blinked again, I grabbed my cane, and got out
the door just as it contracted behind me
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