"Of course. _Shh_, Jeannie!"
"Jeannie's with you, Louise? She's all right? You're--all right?"
"Come and see," the sweet voice chuckled.
Captain Anderson dove into the blackness aft. It closed over him
silently and completely.
On the table stood an ivory figurine, a quarter-keg of beer, a thorny
cross, and a heart. It wasn't a physiological specimen; rather it was
the archetype of the most sentimental of symbols, the balanced,
cushiony, brilliant red valentine heart. Through it was a golden arrow,
and on it lay cut flowers: lilies, white roses, and forget-me-nots. The
heart pulsed strongly; and though it pumped no blood, at least it showed
that it was alive, which made it, perhaps, a better thing than it looked
at first glance.
Now it was very quiet in the ship, and very dark.