Then out of her white throat, through her red lips pelted a tempest of staccato buglings.
Under them what was left of the Thing leaped, tore on.

Norhala's flaming hair crackled and streamed; about her body of milk and pearl--about Ruth's creamy skin--a radiant nimbus began to glow.
In the distance I saw a sapphire spark; knew it for Norhala's home.

Not far from it now was the rushing pyramid--and it came to me that within that shape was strangely neither globe nor pyramid.

Nor except for the trembling cubes that made the platform on which we stood, did the shrunken Thing carrying us hold any unit of the Metal Monster except its spheres and tetrahedrons--at least within its visible bulk.
The sapphire spark had grown to a glimmering azure marble.

Steadily we gained upon the pyramid.