Perhaps.

He shook himself, scowling into the plastiglass window blackness.
Okay, they'd fought it out. Always jolly, always making it out to be a
big friendly game, only it never was a game. He knew how much he owed
to Paul. He'd known it with growing concern for a lot of years. And
now if he had to drag him back to Washington by the hair, he'd drag
the silly fool--

IV

They didn't look very much alike. There was a spareness about Paul--a
tall, lean, hungry-looking man, with large soft eyes that hid their
anger and a face that was lined with tiredness and resignation. A year
ago, when Dan had seen him last, he had looked a young 60, closer to
45; now he looked an old, old 61. How much of this was the cancer Dan
didn't know. The pathologist had said: "Not a very malignant tumor
right now, but you can never tell when it'll blow up. He'd better be
scheduled at the Center, if he's got a permit--"

But some of it was Paul, just Paul. The house was exactly as Dan had
expected it would be (though he had never been inside this house since
Paul had come to Starship Project fifteen years ago)--stuffy, severe,
rather gloomy, rooms packed with bookshelves, drawing boards, odds and
ends of papers and blueprints and inks, thick, ugly furniture from the
early 2000's, a cluttered, improvised, helter-skelter barn of a
testing-lab, with modern equipment that looked lost and alien
scattered among the mouldering junk of two centuries.

"Get your coat," said Dan. "It's cold outside. We're going back to
Washington."

"Have a drink." Paul waved him toward the sideboard. "Relax. Your
pilot needs a rest."

"Paul, I didn't come here to play games. The games are over now."

Paul poured a brandy with deliberation. Handed Dan one, sipped his
own. "Good brandy," he murmured. "Wish I could afford more of it."

"_Paul._ You're going with me."

The old man shrugged with a little tired smile. "I'll go with you if
you insist, of course. But I'm not going."

"Do you know what you're saying?"

"Perfectly."

"Paul, you don't just say 'Thanks, but I don't believe I'll have any'
when they give you a rejuvenation permit. _Nobody_ refuses
rejuvenation. Why, there are a million people out there begging for a
place on the list. It's _life_, Paul. You can't just turn it down--"

"This _is_ good brandy," said Paul. "Would you care to take a look at
my lab, by the way? Not too well equipped, but sometimes I can work
here better than--"

Dan