"This is a terrible situation," said McBradley, yawning.  "We could lose everything.  The baby with the bathwater."

"The rough" Floss added. "with the smooth."

"It's terminal."

"Maybe if we..."

"It's no use."

Gregory had been dozing, but suddenly he seemed wide awake, caffeine-alert.  "Puce is a good rhyme," he suggested.  "If we can fit it in."

We all laughed, perhaps a little too much.  Gregory had a wayof making us all feel good about ourselves again.  Of course, none of us had told him that he was going to be executed at dawn.