For those days when one gets up a bit off-coloured.
Sometimes, late at night, she got faraway stations on her transistor radio. Garbled languages from over the pole, slow accents from New Orleans. One night when she was working by the upper window in a soft, soapy summer wind, Greek music began to flood the room. “Bear”, she said suddenly, “come dance with me”. (Bear, Chap. XVIII, pp. 96-97)