DOCTOR: Titan Three. Thou craggy knob, which swims upon the oceans of the firmament. Receive this weary penitent.

PERI: I think I'm going to be sick.

DOCTOR: Hmm?

PERI: I'm sorry.

DOCTOR: And why should you be sorry?

PERI: I don't know. I don't know anything any longer. Oh Doctor, please.

DOCTOR: Yes?

PERI: I know what you said, but you weren't serious, were you? I mean about being a hermit.

DOCTOR: Never more so. I've no need to remind you. Now, a hermit needs a hermitage. You and I, Peri, must find one.

PERI: Why bother? Isn't this place good enough?

DOCTOR: Far too good. Quite useless for contemplation. No, what we need is a cave, some utterly comfortless place where you and I can suffer together.

PERI: Why should I be made to suffer?

DOCTOR: Because you have been chosen. It shall be your humble privilege to minister unto my needs. They will be very simple. But nothing must be allowed to interfere with my period of contemplation.

PERI: You said something about a thousand years?

DOCTOR: I was speaking figuratively. It shouldn't come to that. Come along, we're wasting time.