_Four walls do not a prison make--unless
they look out upon a world
that doesn't exist anymore._
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Amazing Stories March 1963.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Harry Trimble looked pleased when he stepped into the apartment. The
lift door had hardly clacked shut behind him on the peering commuter
faces in the car before he had slipped his arm behind Flora's back,
bumped his face against her cheek and chuckled, "Well, what would you
say to a little surprise? Something you've waited a long time for?"