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           ButthereinthearcadeyoucouldholdlightningwiththeCANYOUTAKEIT?electricalmachinewhenyouprieditschromedhandlesapartasthepowerwasp-stung,sizzled,sewedyourvibrantfingers.Youpunchedabagandsawhowmanyhundredpoundsofsinewwereavailableinyourarmtostriketheworldifitneedbestruck.Theregriparobot’shandtoIndian-wrestleoutyourfuryandlightthebulbshalfupanumberedchartwherefireworksatthesummitprovedyourviolencesupreme.

           Inthearcade,then,youdidthisandthis,andthatandthatoccurred.Youcameforthinpeaceasfromachurchunknownbefore.

           Andnow?Now?

           Thewitchmovingbutsilent,andperhapssoondeadinhercrystalcoffin.HelookedatMr.Blackdroningthere,defyingallworlds,evenhisown.Somedaythefinemachinerywouldrustfromlackoflovingcare,theKeystoneKopsfreezeforeverhalfin,halfoutofthelake,halfcaught,halfstruckbylocomotive;theWrightBrothersnevergettheirkitemachineofftheground...

           "Tom,"Douglassaid,"wegottositinthelibraryandfigurethisthingout."

           Theymovedondownthestreet,thewhiteunwrittencardpassingbetweenthem.

           Theysatinsidethelibraryintheliddedgreenlightandthentheysatoutsideonthecarvedstonelion,danglingtheirfeetoveritsback,frowning.

           "OldmanBlack,allthetimescreamingather,threateningtokillher."

           "Youcan’tkillwhat’sneverlived,Doug."

           "Hetreatsthewitchlikeshe’saliveorwasoncealive,orsomething.Screamingather,somaybeshe’sfinallygivenup.