Nat chuckled, then kissed the end of her pert nose. "You'll see, my love, you'll see. But first we have to make you Mrs. Nathanial Lyon. There was a time, right after the Third World War, when marriage was easy, with no questions asked. So right now, it's off to the disorganized world of the late 20th century." And so began one of the strangest honeymoons in the history of Earth's human race. Nat and Abby were unseen observers when Pericles ruled Greece. They visited the court of Charlemagne, walked through the streets of Rome at the height of its splendor, viewed the glories and wickedness of Babylon and Baghdad, watched the artisans of old Cathay. But fate chose their honeymoon as the time of their undoing. Nat had believed they would be safe for the rest of their lives. He knew that detection of the time machine was virtually impossible unless their full dimensional destination were known to the TIC ... assuming that he had been missed in the 25th century, which he believed unlikely. Sealed chronometers, installed by the TIC, would give him away if he ever returned the time machine to base. But premature discovery need be the only worry now. As he had explained to Abby, "The power plant in these things gives off traceable radiation, provided the tracer gets close enough. But right now, tracing us would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. All we've got to watch out for is another time machine with someone aboard who might have reason to be suspicious of us." And it happened just that way as they sat watching the original first night of a Shakespeare play. Another time machine controlled by an Arts student from Earth University appeared in an adjoining balcony. Nat flicked his machine to full power--too late! The student, an acquaintance of Nat's, had nodded in recognition. Clocking away, Nat couldn't avoid a glum comment. "Well, the TIC probably will be after us in full force now." Abby studied Nat's face. "Darling," she said, "Let's settle down. Why need we travel at all?" Her calm erased Nat's concern. "We'll do it!" he exclaimed, confident again. * * * * * Nat parked his new model T Ford in the garage. He walked quickly into the kitchen, kissed his wife. It was no perfunctory peck so much the practice in the times in which they lived, but a tender, passionate embrace, as if it might be their last. "Nat, there's been someone around the house today. I'm worried," Abby finally said. The muscles in his stomach tightened. "Maybe they've traced us. What did he look like?" "He was tall, severe, in fact he could almost pass for old Jonathan Borden, the man who was in charge of my execution, the man who read the charges against me." "Anton Bor!" Nat said hoarsely. "The head man of the TIC!" Abby threw her arms around Nat, buried her head in his shoulder. Her arms held him with desperation. "Oh darling, we've been so happy these past five years. They can't separate us. I'd rather die first!"