'I intended to wear just the shorts. If the weather is warm. As it is.'

'But, Margrethe, I told you not to -'She was unsnapping the skirt, taking it off. 'You are defying me!'

She folded it, up neatly. 'May I place this in the knapsack? Please?'

'You are deliberately disobeying me!'

'But, Alec, I don't have to obey you and you don't have to obey me.'

'But - Look, dear, be reasonable. You know I don't usually give orders. But a wife must obey her husband. Are you my wife?'

'You told me so. So I am until you tell me otherwise.'

'Then it is your duty to obey me.'

'No, Alec.'

'But that is a wife's first duty!'

'I don't agree.'

'But - This is madness! Are you leaving me?'

'No. Only if you divorce me.'

'I don't believe in divorce. Divorce is wrong. Against Scripture.'

She made no answer.

'Margrethe... please put your skirt on.'

She said softly, 'Almost you persuade me, dearest. Will you explain why you want me to do so?'

'What? Because those shorts, worn alone, are indecent!'

'I don't see how an article of clothing can be indecent, Alec. A person, yes. Are you saying that I am indecent?'

'Uh - You're twisting my words. When you wear those shorts - without a skirt - in public, you expose so much of yourself that the spectacle is indecent. Right now, walking this highway, your limbs are fully exposed... to the people in that car that just passed, for example. They saw you. I saw them staring!'

'Good. I hope they enjoyed it.'

'What?'

'You tell me that I am beautiful. But you could be prejudiced. I hope that my appearance is pleasing to other people as well.'

'Be serious, Margrethe; we're speaking of your naked limbs. Naked.'

'You are saying my legs are bare. So they are. I prefer them bare when the weather is warm. What are you frowning at, dear? Are my legs ugly?'

('Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee!') 'Your limbs are beautiful, my love; I have told you so many times. But I have no wish to share your beauty.'

'Beauty is not diminished by being shared. Let's get back to the subject, Alec; you were explaining how my legs are indecent. If you can explain it. I don't think you can.'

'But, Margrethe, nakedness is indecent by its very nature. It inspires lewd thoughts.'

'Really? Does seeing my legs cause you to get an erection?'

'Margrethe!'

'Alec, stop being a fub! I asked a simple question.'

'An improper question.' '

She sighed. 'I don't see how that question can possibly be improper between husband and wife. And I will never concede that my legs are indecent. Or that nakedness is indecent. I have been naked in front of hundreds of people -'

'Margrethe!'

She looked surprised. 'Surely you know that?'

'I did not know it and I am shocked to hear it.'

'Truly, dear? But you know how well I swim.'

'What's that got to do with it? I swim well, too. But I don't swim naked; I wear a bathing suit.' (But I, was remembering most sharply the pool in Konge Knut - of course my darling was used to nude swimming. I found myself out on a limb.)

'Oh. Yes. I've seen such suits, in Mazatlán. And in Spain. But, darling, we're going astray again. The problem is wider than whether or not bare legs are indecent or whether I should have kissed Steve good-bye or even whether I must obey you. You are expecting me to be what I am not. I want to be your wife for many years, for -all my life - and I hope to share Heaven with you if Heaven is your destination. But, darling, I am not a child, I am not a slave. Because I love you I wish to please you. But I will not obey an order simply because I am a wife.'

I could say that I overwhelmed her with the brilliance of my rebuttal. Yes, I could say that, but it would not be true. I was still trying to think of an answer when a car slowed down as it overtook us. I heard a whistle of the sort called 'wolf'. The car stopped beyond us and backed up. Need a ride?' a voice called out.

'Yes!' Margrethe answered, and hurried. Perforce, I did, too.

. It was a station wagon with a woman behind the wheel, a man riding with her. Both were my age or older. He reached back, opened the rear door. 'Climb in!'

I handed Margrethe in, followed her and closed the door. 'Got room enough?' he asked. 'If not, throw that junk on the floor. We never sit in the back seat, so stuff sort o' gravitates to it. We're Clyde and Bessie Bulkey.'

'He's Bulkey; I'm just well fed,' the driver added.

'You're supposed to laugh at that; I've heard it before.' He was indeed bulky, the sort of big-boned beefy man who is an athlete in school, then puts on weight later. His wife had correctly described both of them; she was not fat but carried some extra padding.

'How do you do, Mrs Bulkey, Mr Bulkey. We're Alec and Margrethe Graham. Thank you for picking us up.'

Don't be so formal, Alec,' she answered. 'How far you going?'

'Bessie, please keep one eye on the road.'

'Clyde, if you don't like the way I'm herding this heap, I'll pull over and let you drive.'

'Oh, no, no, you're doing fine!'

'Pipe down then, or I invoke rule K. Well, Alec?'

'We're going to Kansas.'

'Coo! We're not going that far; we turn north at Chambers. That's just a short piece down the road, About ninety miles. But you're welcome to that much. What are you going to do in Kansas?'

(What was I going to do in Kansas? Open an ice cream parlor... bring my dear wife back to the fold. Prepare for Judgment Day -) 'I'm going to wash dishes.'

'My husband is too modest,' Margrethe said quietly. 'We're going to open a small restaurant and soda fountain in a college town. But on our way to that goal we are likely to wash dishes. Or almost any work.'

So I explained what had happened to us, with variations and omissions to avoid what they wouldn't believe. 'The restaurant was wiped out, our Mexican partner were dead, and we lost everything we had. I said "dishwashing" because that is the one job I can almost always find. But I'll take a swing at 'most anything.'

Clyde said, 'Alec, with that attitude you'll be back on, your feet before you know it.'

'We lost some money, that's all. We're not too old to start over again.' (Dear Lord, will You hold off Judgment Day long enough for me to do it? Thy will be done. Amen.)

Margrethe reached over and squeezed my hand. Llyde noticed it. He had turned around in his seat so that he faced us as well as his wife. 'You'll make it,' he said. 'With your wife backing you, you're bound to make it.'

I think so. Thank you. 'I knew why he was turned to face us: to stare at Margrethe. I wanted to tell him to keep his eyes to himself but, under the circumstances, I could not. Besides that, it was clear that Mr and Mrs Bulkey saw nothing wrong with the way my beloved was dressed; Mrs Bulkey was dressed the same way, only more so. Or less so. Less costume, more bare skin. I must admit, too, that,' while she was not the immortal beauty Margrethe is, she was quite comely.

At Painted Desert we stopped, got out, and stared at the truly unbelievable natural beauty. I had seen it once before; Margrethe had never seen it and was breathless. Clyde told me that they always stopped, even though they had seen it hundreds of times.

Correction: I had seen it once before in another world. Painted Desert tended to prove what I had strongly suspected: It was not Mother Earth that changed in these wild changes; it was man and his works - and even those only, in part. But the only obvious explanation seemed to lead straight to paranoia. If so, I must not surrender to it; I must take care of Margrethe.

Clyde bought us hot dogs and cold drinks and brushed aside my offer to pay. When we got back into their car, Clyde took the wheel and invited Margrethe to ride up front with him. I was not pleased but could not show it, as Bessie promptly said, 'Poor Alec! Has to put up with the old bag. Don't sulk, dear; it's only twenty-three miles to the turn-off for Chambers... or less than twenty-three minutes the way Clyde drives.'