“You are late,” she murmured. And then if some day Capes wanted her—saw fit to alter his views upon friendship. That could signify nothing except that the doctor had a friend down there somewhere, on an island in one of those archipelagoes. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. Any man might have endeavoured to protect himself in this fashion, a man with no one to care, with an unnameable terror at the thought (as if it mattered!) of being buried in alien earth, far from the familiar places he loved. Her fingers passed over a cunningly wrought surface of wood, with just the correct amount of protrusion, the precise colours of dyed leather, and cleverly gilded surfaces and neatly painted lettering. ’ Was there a careful note in her voice? Gerald gave no sign, keeping his own tone light. "Whatever you say—you, behind those stars there, if you are a God. Sheppard.
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