to inquire into the nothingness which they
postulated. The dawn was breaking in the
muggy east; the bottles were empty, the cigars
burnt out. Tim turned toward his friend with
a sharp breaking of sociable silence.

"Rick," he said, "do you know that Fear
has a Shape?"

"And so has my nose!"

"You asked me the other night what I
feared. Holy father, I make my confession
to you. What I fear is Fear."

"That's because you've drunk too much --
or not enough.

"'Come, fill the cup, and in the fire of Spring
Your winter garment of repentance fling --'"

"My costume then would be too nebulous
for this weather, dear boy. But it's true what
I was saying. I am afraid of ghosts."

"For an agnostic that seems a bit --"

"Agnostic! Yes, so completely an agnostic
that I do not even know that I do not know!
God, man, do you mean you have no ghosts