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"I've injured myself." The two men in pullovers conferred hurriedly as they cranked their levers; then one punched a button and the other reached across, using his left arm to help. "They've shifted to high," Magnan said. "Give up, it's hopeless." "Shift me to high," Retief said. "Both buttons!" Magnan complied. Retief's shoulders bulged.
"I've promised to show her a new crochet pattern and knit a pair of pullovers for little Skuli," smiled Cristy. "The poor thing is lonesome and I've half a mind to make a little visit for a few days. Do you know, she hasn't seen a white woman to talk to for six months?" "You couldn't do a more charitable act, Miss Lawson, and I hope you'll allow the bell-boy to linger within call.
The shill led the way to an eight-foot tower mounted on gimbals. Two perspiring men in trade-class pullovers gripped two of the levers that controlled the tilt of the tower. A white ball lay in a hollow in the thick glass platform at the top. From the center, an intricate pattern of grooves led out to the edge of the glass. Retief and Magnan took chairs before the two free levers.
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