I have mentioned Dan's feelings under similar circumstances. Dan was in love with Hulda; the instinct of all that was upright and true within him rose to cast out this surge of alien emotion. Not so with me--I was wholly fancy free. I took Zetta's hand. It seemed then as though the contact might suddenly become beyond my power to break. Her gaze held mine. I saw a sudden startled look in her eyes, and then saw something else--the mirrored play of emotions like my own. Her body seemed to sway toward me; I could see and feel her withstanding its sway. An attraction between us. Do I mean that literally? Scientifically? I do not know. There is, perhaps, between the sexes on earth such an attraction. Or it may perchance be psychological, emotional, nothing more. I felt it with Zetta, and I could see that she felt it and was startled. But in her eyes there was more than surprise--a swift melting look of tenderness. Mrs. Cain bustled up to us. "Isn't she a darling little thing, Peter? We all love her. Oh, dear me, these terrible, strange times!" Our hands broke apart. Was it love we had felt in that instant? Could love be possible, could it be right between a man and a woman so different? Does the Creator intend the worlds thus to be joined, or is the isolation He has imposed upon each of them an evidence that such cannot be? Love between Zetta and me? I do not know. But all that afternoon and evening, I found my eyes turning to her, and found her somber gaze upon me. We chanced to approach each other several times, and always I was conscious of the attraction of her nearness. Not so strong as at first. All my instinct, my reason, was prepared for it now; a thousand barriers of conventionality and time and place and circumstance contributed subconsciously to resist it. But it was there, invisibly, intangibly holding us. * * * * * The evening's radio news brought a measure of relief to the world. From New York came the report that the invaders had vanished. Moved somewhere else, perhaps--but where it was not known. Father made one comment; his words, which proved to be true enough, linger clear in my memory. "They left New York yesterday afternoon, after the attack by Robinson and Davis. There are not two vehicles--only one! It left New York and landed last night in Venezuela! It may leave there presently." His glance turned to Zetta. "I have reason to think that the invaders will voluntarily withdraw from the earth. Very soon, I imagine--while Xenephrene is still comparatively near us." True enough! At midnight that night the radio told us that the Xenephrene vehicle, with all its people, had left Venezuela. The night was heavily overcast, with a rain and wind storm all up through Central America and the lower Caribbean; and north of sixteen degrees there was snow. Where the invaders had gone, no one knew. The world was anxiously awaiting news of their next landing place.