The blood rushed from my heart; scientist that I am, essentially, my reason rejected any such solution as this of the activities of the Dweller. Was it not, the thought flashed, a propitiation by the Three out of their own weakness⁠—and as it flashed I looked up to see their eyes, full of sorrow, on mine⁠—and knew they read the thought. Then into the whirling vortex of my mind came steadying reflections⁠—of history changed by the power of hate, of passion, of ambition, and most of all, by love. Was there not actual dynamic energy in these things⁠—was there not a Son of Man who hung upon a cross on Calvary?

“Dear love o’ mine,” said the O’Keefe quietly, “is it in your heart to say yes to this?”

“Larry,” she spoke low, “what is in your heart is in mine; but I did so want to go with you, to live with you⁠—to⁠—to bear you children, Larry⁠—and to see the sun.”

My eyes were wet; dimly through them I saw his gaze on me.