The Industrialist said, “It’s the workmanship that gets me. I never saw such construction.”
“What good is it now?” said the Astronomer, bitterly. “There’s nothing left. There’ll be no second landing. This ship detected life on our planet through accident. Other exploring parties would come no closer than necessary to establish the fact that there were no super-dense worlds existing in our solar system.”
“Well, there’s no quarreling with a crash landing.”
“The ship hardly seems damaged. If only some had survived, the ship might have been repaired.”
“If they had survived, there would be no trade in any case. They’re too different. Too disturbing. In any case—it’s over.”
They entered the house and the Industrialist greeted his wife calmly. “Lunch about ready, dear.”
“I’m afraid not. You see—” She looked hesitantly at the Astronomer.
“Is anything wrong?” asked the Industrialist. “Why not tell me? I’m sure our guest won’t mind a little family discussion.”
“Pray don’t pay any attention whatever to me,” muttered the Astronomer. He moved miserably to the other end of the living room.
The woman said, in low, hurried tones, “Really, dear, cook’s that upset. I’ve been soothing her for hours and honestly, I don’t know why Red should have done it.”