Haggerty was not quite exasperated. Elaine's fingers were bruising her shoulder.
        "If there was more of it, they wouldn't," Elaine snapped.
        That was ridiculous, of course, but Haggerty knew why she said it. Fear looses.
        "We'll board a train. We'll go to Istanbul, we'll go to Vladivostok, but we won't get off we'll keep on going as long as we're going we're not anywhere really. We're just going. If we're not anywhere really then fate is nothing."
        Haggerty was not afraid. "Fate," she said and dismissed it like a minor bruise, faced it like diphtheria.
 

        Time, time cracked like an egg.
        Time resounded like the bells and horns from high lion temples sustaining the farthest mountain pass on Earth where the sun in thin bleached air oscillated minutely counting time
precisely.
 

        Every night for 34 years the Doctress, little Dr. Haggerty, was escorted home by a slender blond companion whom no 1 knew, and who was never introduced.
        "You can't ask for more than that," was what Haggerty said.