“Sure.”
“I’ll show you how to use the receiver as a reproducer at the same time. Now watch. This is the adapter switch. Turn it to ‘rep’. Then you put the record in like so and fasten the end of the film with this catch. Then press the power button. No, don’t do it yet. You control the volume of sound with this dial. Now push the power button.” The machine whirred softly and the large screen came to life. A fool in motley appeared and laughed sardonically in their faces.
“Hi, brother fool,” he shouted, “You want another of Touchstone’s tales? Then gather round and attend me well. Touchstone Tells the Tale! Many, many years ago in ancient Greece there lived a wench of monstrous humor.” A large hook appeared from the side of the screen and settled about the jester’s middle. His grin changed to dismay and broke into a thousand pieces, reformed and spelled Lysistrata: A Comedy of Manners. Diana noticed Perry’s reflex of recognition.
“You know it then?”
“Yes. Oh yes.”
“Shall I turn it off?”
“No. Please don’t.” For the next hour they laughed and chuckled over the ageless farce of marriage and war. Perry was particularly delighted to recognize Diana among the Grecian wenches, and pointed out his discovery with a glee. Diana looked pleased, but protested when Perry insisted in whispers that Diana should have had the leading role.
Presently the play came to its rollicking finish, and the machine clicked to a stop. Perry found Diana smothering a yawn. She made a face at him. “Sorry, but I was up earlier than you were.”
“I’m sleepy myself.”
“Ready for bed?”
“I think so. Where do I sleep?”
“Anywhere you like. Where you were last night is as good as any.”
Perry accepted the suggestion and made himself comfortable on that part of the couch. Diana lay down across the room, called out a languid goodnight, and with as little ceremony as a cat, curled up and appeared to fall at once to sleep. Perry lay on his back, eyes closed but head seething with confused impressions and idea sequences, each demanding immediate attention. Sleep seemed impossible but nevertheless in a very few minutes he sank into the soft warm glow that precedes it. Soon he was breathing slowly.
A scream of terror cut through the room. Diana sat up and switched on the light. Perry was sitting up also, his eyes staring, horrified. She ran to his side. “Perry, Perry, my dear. What happened?” He clung to her hand.
“I was falling. It seemed like I landed here in the dark. I’m all right now. It was just a bad dream.”
“There. There. It’s all right.” She soothed and comforted him. “Just wait a minute. I’ll leave the light on.” She left him and returned quickly with a cup of the same steamy, spicy mixture that he had drunk the night before. “Now drink this slowly.”
He touched her hand. “Dian’, I know I’m being a baby, but will you stay with me for a little?”
“Of course, Perry.”
When he finished his drink, she lay down beside him, put her arms around him, and rested his head on her breast. “Now just relax and be quiet. You’re safe and I won’t leave you.” In a very few minutes he was sleeping peacefully. Diana held him a little while longer then gently uncurled herself and sat up. She massaged the pins and needles out of her arm and watched Perry’s face. After a long time she bent over and kissed him quickly and softly on the lips. He smiled without wakening. Then she returned to her place on the couch. Now it was her turn to have trouble wooing sleep. Why had she kissed him? It was a silly thing to do. She wasn’t in love with him. Of course not. She didn’t know him and didn’t feel any strong physical attraction for him. One didn’t fall in love with savages anyhow. And that was just what he was, essentially. He hadn’t acted like a savage though. Nevertheless, anyone brought up in the first part of the twentieth century couldn’t possibly be a fit companion for a girl nowdays. He would be sure to be emotionally unstable. He was unstable; that crying out in the night proved it. He hadn’t anything to fear. But suppose I had just fallen to my death, she thought. He wasn’t dead. No, but he thought he was. No, he didn’t either. It was very confusing. He had looked so hurt and lonesome. Then when he went to sleep he looked so young it had made her melt. That was why, just sympathy, just the way she had kissed the top of Captain Kidd’s furry cap after she cut a thorn out of his paw. Just sympathy. But why had she urged him to stay until he got oriented? There were institutions for that, quite capable and better equipped than she was. Oh damn, why hadn’t she turned Captain Kidd in when he first came mewing at the door and demanding attention? Diana, you’re a fool and any animal or child or man or woman that wants to can move you right out of your own home. Hadn’t she built this house for privacy? Hadn’t she come here so she could take out her soul and examine it in private? And now how could she? What interesting eyes he had. Yet he didn’t look at her, except to meet her gaze. Didn’t he think she was pretty? Could she be getting old? Were the women in 1939 more beautiful than they were today? Or would he think so? But then what if he did? Certainly she was not interested.