"No miracles this time!" Ormond began briskly. He smiled.
Mrs. Folsom said, "Dr. Al--"
He looked over at her. "Yes, Eleanor?"
Eleanor Folsom hesitated, shook her head. "No," she said. "Go on. I'm sorry I interrupted."
"That's all right." Dr. Al gave her a warm smile. It had been, he continued, a successful exercise, a very promising first attempt, in spite of the lack of an immediate materialization, which, of course, had been only a remote possibility to start with. He had no fault to find with the quality of the group's effort. He had sensed it ... as they, too, presently would be able to sense it ... as a smooth flow of directed energy. With a little more practice ... one of these days ...
Cavender stifled one yawn, concealed another which didn't allow itself to be stifled behind a casually raised hand. He watched Ormond move over to the prop table, put the wooden plate down beside the red suitcase without interr
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Not a great story, the plot trudges along, but the narrator is a good character, and there's an underlying question of "what's going on here?" that kept me reading.