"Here you are." Walter shut his eyes.
"It’s getting late," she said, looking at him.
"Yes."
"I’m tired," she said.
"Funny. I’m wide awake."
"Oh," she said
"I feel like staying up all night," he said. "Say, there‘s a good record at Mike’s. Come on, I’ll play it for you."
"I’m tired," she glanced up at him with sly, bright eyes.
"I’m very alert," he said. "Strange."
"Come back to the beauty shop," she said. "I want to show you something."
She took him in through the glass door and walked him over to a large white box. "When I drove from Texas City," she said, "I brought this with me." She untied the pink ribbon. "I thought: Well here I am, the only lady on Mars, and here is the only man, and, well..." She lifted the lid and folded back crisp layers of whispery pink tissue paper. She gave it a pat. "There."
Walter Gripp stared.
"What is it?" he asked, beginning to tremble.
"Don‘t you know, silly? It’s all lace and all white and all fine and everything."
"No, I don’t know what it is."
"It‘s a wedding dress, silly!"
"Is it?" His voice cracked.
He shut his eyes. Her voice was still soft and cool and sweet, as it had been on the phone. But when he opened his eyes and looked at her...
He backed up. "How nice," he said.
"Isn’t it?"
"Genevieve." He glanced at the door.
"Yes?"
"Good-bye!"