"But it's impossible!" exclaimed Forsythe. "I haven't even seen Phyllis since we were divorced." "Did you think the tetraploid, the new species, would have the same gestation period as man?" asked Allison. "The gestation period is thirty months. Phyllis was pregnant when you were divorced, Blan, but I loved her and I didn't let either of you know. I wanted her for myself." "So that's why you recommended polygamy so enthusiastically," remarked Forsythe. "That's why I recommended a two-year limit on keeping any of your wives, and why I made sure they were sent far away," admitted Allison. "I couldn't let you know. You have half a dozen sons and daughters now, Blan, and Lois is going to be a mother." There was happiness in Forsythe's dark face as he looked out over the crowd. To see happiness on _his_ face cut Truggles' soul like a knife. And all this small talk was losing his crowd. The seething emotions he had nurtured so carefully were simmering down in harmless curiosity aroused by the small private drama that had unfolded before the people on the lawn. "It's a conspiracy to mislead you!" he howled. "If no one else will throw the first stone, I will!" It was a symbolic gesture, his scooping up a harmless clod and hurling it to explode against the porch as he marched on the man he hated. His back to the crowd, Truggles feared with a terrible fear that it was already too late. He was chancing making himself ridiculous. But his heart leaped as the voices of a few hotheads arose in his support behind him, and he felt, rather than heard, some of the people surge forward. How many? He didn't know, but a few would be enough to start the rest again. Allison was leaning over the porch rail, his face white, looking not at Truggles but past him. "Donald!" he cried in a low voice that carried intensely across the grass. "Do as your mother says! I won't punish you. Use the Power!" And Truggles faltered and stopped in his tracks. He looked around him, confused, as some unseen force seemed to take his will and disperse it. The harsh glare of the lights faded in the glow of a greater, softer, more glorious illumination. A soundless music filled the air, so deep and majestic that it was felt, rather than heard. Almost, Truggles expected the sky to open and a heavenly choir to appear. Around him, he saw the familiar things of Marston Hill with new eyes. Life coursed through the green grass, bade a winter's farewell from the turning leaves of the trees. He felt for the first time that he was not a creature alone, but a part of all life around him.