Her faintly oblique eyes were inscrutable. She pretended to believe me and begged me to take her along. After all, we had spent our honeymoon on battlefields. Would it be possible? Two people had never stood under the reflector together, but surely it would work? I was tempted, but I could not subject Catty to the risk, however slight. Besides, how could I explain? “But Catty, with you there I’d be thinking of you instead of the problem.” “Ah, Hodge, have we already been married so long you must get away from me to think?” “No matter how long, that time will never come. Perhaps I’m wrong, Catty. It’s just a feeling I have.” Her look was tragic with understanding. “You must do as you think right. Don’t ... don’t be gone too long, my dear.” I dressed in clothes I often used for walking trips, clothes which bore no mark of any fashion and might pass as current wear among the poorer classes in any era of the past hundred years. I put a packet of dried beef in my pocket and started for the workshop. As soon as I left the cottage I laughed at my hypersensitivity, at all the to-do I’d made over lying to Catty. This was but the first excursion; I planned others for the months after Gettysburg. There was no reason why she shouldnt accompany me on them. I grew lighthearted as my conscience eased and I even congratulated myself on my skill in not having told a single technical falsehood to Catty. I began to whistle, never a habit of mine, as I made my way along the path to the workshop. Barbara was alone. Her ginger hair gleamed in the light of a gas globe; her eyes were green as they always were when she was exultant. “Well, Hodge?” “Well, Barbara, I....” “Have you told Catty?” “Not exactly. How did you know?” “I knew before you did, Hodge. After all, we’re not strangers. All right. How long do you want to stay?” “Four days.” “That’s long for a first trip. Don’t you think you’d better try a few sample minutes?” “Why? Ive seen you and Ace go often enough and heard your accounts. I’ll take care of myself. Have you got it down fine enough yet so you can invariably pick the hour of arrival?” “Hour and minute,” she answered confidently. “What’ll it be?” “About midnight of June 30, 1863,” I answered. “I want to come back on the night of July Fourth.” “Youll have to be more exact than that. For the return, I mean. The dials are set on seconds.” “All right, make it midnight going and coming then.” “Have you a watch that keeps perfect time?” “I don’t know about perfect—” “Take this one. It’s synchronized with the master control clock.” She handed me a large, rather awkward timepiece which had two independent faces side by side. “We had a couple made like this; the duplicate dials were useful before we were able to control HX-1 so exactly. One shows 1952 Haggershaven time.” “Ten thirty-three and fourteen seconds,” I said.