" "Why, what the devil's this?" vociferated Jonathan, looking up. Fly! they shall knock me on the head—curse 'em!—before they shall touch you. The threadbare remainders of the dinner discussion hovered over the topics of obsessive fans of the science fiction and horror genres. There was nothing of the phenomenon in this. Wood did think of it, and groaned aloud. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. Hilary could not have suggested such a thing. ' Avoid taverns and bad company, and you may yet do well.
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