"Yes, but _is_ it the same?" interrupted Stern suddenly, his practical turn of mind always reasserting itself. "Don't you see a difference? You remember the old-time face in the moon, of course. Where is it now? The moon always presented only one side, the same side, to us in the old days. How about it now? If I'm not mistaken, things have shifted up there. We're looking now at some other face of it. And if that's so it means a far bigger disarrangement of the solar system and the earth's orbit and lots of things than you or I suspect! "Wait till we get back to New York for half a day, and visit the tower and gather up our things. Wait till I get hold of my binoculars again! Perhaps some of these questions may be resolved. We can't go on this way, surrounded by perpetual puzzles, problems, mysteries! We must--" "Do nothing but rest now!" she dictated with mock severity. Stern laughed. "Well, you're the boss," he answered, and leaned back against the oak. "Only, may I propound one more question?" "Well, what is it?" "Do you see that dark patch in the sky? Sort of a roughly circular hole in the blue, as it were--right there?" He pointed. "Where there aren't any stars?" "Why--yes. What about it?" "It's moving, that's all. Every night that black patch moves among the stars, and cuts their light off; and one night it grazed the moon--passed before the eastern limb of it, you understand. Made a partial eclipse. You were asleep; I didn't bother you about it. But if there's a new body in the sky, it's up to us to know why, and what about it, and all. So the quicker--" "The quicker you get well, the better all around!" She drew his head down and kissed him tenderly on the forehead with that strange, innate maternal instinct which makes women love to "mother" men even ten years older than themselves. "Don't you worry your brains about all these problems and vexations to-night, Allan. Your getting well is the main thing. The whole world's future hangs on just that! Do you realize what it means? Do you?" "Yes, as far as the human brain _can_ realize so big a concept. Languages, arts, science, all must be handed down to the race by us. The world can't begin again on any higher plane than just the level of our collective intelligence. All that the world knows to-day is stored in your brain-cells and mine! And our speech, our methods, our ideals, will shape the whole destiny of the earth. Our ideals! We must keep them very pure!" "Pure and unspotted," she answered simply. Then with an adorable and feminine anticlimax: "Dear, does your shoulder pain you now? I'm awfully heavy to be leaning on you like this!" "You're not hurting me a bit. On the contrary, your touch, your presence, are life to me!" "Quite sure you're comfy, boy?" "Positive." "And happy?" "To the limit." "I'm so glad. Because I am, too. I'm awfully sleepy, Allan. Do you mind if I take just a little, tiny nap?"