"No," Sam said, trying to keep his voice even. "I've changed my mind.
I'm keeping the engine whether you like it or not."
Dorothy's mouth hung open in surprise, and before she could recover
enough to launch a fresh tirade Sam Meecham had walked out, slamming the
door behind him. He paused in the cool evening and gazed upward. The
government had gone only to the Moon. Sam Meecham was going to the
stars!
The next day he was given the silent treatment. It had begun the night
before when he returned from his walk. Dorothy was in bed, awake and
sniffling over the cruelty inflicted upon her by an unthoughtful
husband, and when he came in she turned her back and wouldn't speak. Sam
didn't mind that; in fact, it was a welcome relief. But all night long
she sniffled into her pillow, trying to win him over.
Sam felt an odd mixture of sympathy and anger. "Oh, shut up," he said
finally, and stuck his head under the pillow.
In the morning the treatment continued, but it was not totally
silent--for Dorothy's air of hostility was now accompanied by low,
sometimes indistinct mumblings.