“Since I don’t expect to arrive in, say, 1820, I can safely promise neither to steal eggs nor court Ace’s female ancestors.” He was gone for five minutes. The barn had apparently not yet been built in 1820 and he found himself on a slight rise in a field of wild hay. The faint snick of scythes, and voices not too far off, indicated mowers. He dropped to the ground. His view of the past was restricted to tall grass and some persistent ants who explored his face and hands until the time was up and he returned with broken spears of ripe hay clinging to his clothes. “At least that’s what I imagined I saw,” he concluded. “Did you imagine these?” asked Ace, pointing to the straws. “Probably. It’s at least as likely as time-travel.” “But what about corroboration? Your experience, and Barbara’s and Ace’s confirm each other. Doesnt that mean anything?” “Certainly. Only I’m not prepared to say what. The mind can do anything; anything at all. Create boils and cancers. Why not ants and grass? I don’t know. I don’t know....” After more fruitless argument, he and I left the workshop. I was again reminded of Enfandin—Why should I believe my eyes? I felt though that Midbin was carrying skepticism beyond rational limits; Barbara’s case was proved. “Yes, yes,” he answered when I said this. “Why not?” I puzzled over his reply. Then he added abruptly, “No one can help her now.” _18._ _THE WOMAN TEMPTED ME_ Gently, Catty said, “Ive never understood why you cut yourself off from the past the way you have, Hodge.” “Ay? What do you mean?” “Well, youve not communicated with your father or mother since you left home, fourteen years ago. You say you had a dear friend in the man from Haiti, yet youve never tried to find out whether he lived or died.” “Oh, that way. I thought you meant ... something different.” By not taking advantage of Barbara’s offer I certainly was cutting myself off from the past. “Yes?” “Well, I guess more or less everyone at the haven has done the same thing. Let outside ties grow weak, I mean. You for one—” “But I have no parents, no friends anywhere else. All my life is here.” “Well, so is mine.” “Ah, dear Hodge; it is unlike you to be so indifferent.” “Catty darling, you were brought up comfortably in an atmosphere knowing nothing of indenting or sharecropping, of realizing the only escape from wretchedness was in a miracle—usually translated as a winning number in the lottery. I can’t convey to you the meaning of utterly loveless surroundings, I can only say that affection was a luxury my mother and father couldnt afford.” “Perhaps not; but you can afford it. Now. And nothing of what you have said applies to Enfandin.”