Edward Hopper Sunday paintingEdward Hopper Morning Sun paintingAmedeo Modigliani Reclining Nude painting
a very small voice she answered: "No."
I stepped to her, stirred to the marrow, and kissed her lips. Like Truth's last veils our wrappers rose: her eyes opened; I closed mine, and saw the Answer.
"Pass you!" I whispered. She nodded.
Supporting her under the buttocks with my stick, I lifted her upon me; she twined me round.
"In the purse," I said. "Bray's mask. For the scanner."
From the bag strung about my neck she withdrew and donned the mask. Then I bade her empty the purse itself of its sundry contents, invert it over my head, and draw the strings. At my direction she directed me to the entry-port.
"Wait," I said. "Do you see a control-panel nearby? Some sort of console?"
"Yes. There's a row of black buttons on it and a place markedInput. But the only jack I see saysOutput ."
"Put it in," I instructed. She did, and pulled the lever beside the console. There were hums and snaps. At once the port opened, and in I went. The scanner clicked: as one, we tumbled past it and slid deep into the Belly.