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Turning, I saw him just beyond the threshold. About five feet in height, hunchbacked. His hair and beard were even longer than I remembered. Dworkin wore a nightshirt which reached to his ankles. He carried an oil lamp, his dark eyes peering across its sooty chimney.
"Oberon ", he said, "is this finally time?"
"What time is that?" I asked softly.
He chuckled.
"What other? Time to destroy the world, of course!"