They ate with the relish of those long deprived of accustomed food; and as we sat with them, forbearing to ask the eager questions flooding us, again I had that impression of the strangeness which had come to them. It was not only their manner of dress, though that of itself was extraordinary. They wore shirts of a colored cloth with a high rolling collar in front, low and open in back. Short trousers that were queerly wide and flapping at the knee, stockings that seemed of a soft gray leather and long-pointed shoes of a material I could not name. Over the shirt a short jacket, wide-shouldered and with sleeves that puffed and flared; and a skirt to it at the waist which rolled upward. Their hats--which Frannie rescued from the vehicle--were solidly wooden of aspect, with low circular crowns and triangular stiff brims. The garb seemed grotesque; yet they took it so as a matter of course when once we ceased our comments--and they were so easy in it, so unconscious of it--that abruptly I realized it was my own viewpoint that held the strangeness. Between them, also, there was a difference of aspect--a rationality to their characters. The colors of their garments materially differed. Brett's clothes were more sober--less vivid, less extreme. His shirt was a somber brown; Martt's was a glaring green. Martt's jacket had additional bangles fastened to its cloth, it rolled higher in the skirt; tassels depended from his elbows longer than those Brett wore. His jacket sleeves were fuller; his trousers flared more, and were a more brilliant hue. But I will say that when after a time I became in a measure accustomed to his looks, Martt was very handsome; and he carried himself with a sort of swinging, debonair grace and swagger wholly attractive. They were strangers to us in their mode of dress; no one regarding them could have named a nation of earth or any of the habited planets from which they might have come. Yet the strangeness went deeper than their clothes. They seemed older. A vague aspect of command seemed upon them--especially did it envelop Brett, like an aura sensed but not seen. Martt's old jocularity was unchanged; no dignity, no reservation, no aloofness with us had been added to the new swagger. Yet beneath his laughter there seemed always a hidden solemnity. And then I saw it all--this subtle strangeness that clung to them--I saw it lurking in their eyes. Memories mirrored there; memories of things no man had seen and felt before. Eyes--and more especially Brett's eyes--which had seen, perhaps, too much. II It was Brett who began their narrative; began it with the slow, careful, precise phrasing of the scientist anxious to avoid error of memory; to be exact of every fact and detail. On his lap he held a book of notes, and another book of the many dial recordings. He consulted it. "Our recorded time of starting was four minutes past midnight. Sixteen days ago, wasn't it, Father? Sixteen!"