Henry's way this time — if he hadn't paid enough for the Rapeloews' goddam serving platter, he would simply have to live with the debt. What Jonesy knew about military communication was skimpy, mostly gleaned from books and something called the movies, but it might do. There was nothing sad about the thought, though; summer had been good, and fall would be good, too. Time moves slowly in the afternoons, ever more slowly as the hour of five approaches.
It's no big deal, it'll never make his fortune, but he likes it. The Sno-Cat rolled toward the Interstate, a capsule preceded by the glare of its lights. 'Are they crew?' 'Don't know, but probably not. 'That's the answer.
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