"Aye, but how may one obtain the serum in Kormor? We had it once, before Skor came; but he took it away from us. He said that he would create a new race that would not require it, for they would never grow old. The effects of my last innoculation have worn off, and now I am growing old and shall die. It is not so bad to die--if Skor does not find one's corpse. We of the living here bury our dead in secret beneath the floors of our houses. My mate and our two children lie beneath this floor. But I must go and fetch food and water for you. I shall not be gone long." And with that, she left us. "Poor old creature," said Nalte. "She has nothing to look forward to except the grave, with the chance that Skor may rob her of even that poor future." "How strange she looked!" There was a shocked expression in Duare's eyes as she spoke. "So that is old age! I never saw it before. That is the way I should look some day, were it not for the serum! How ghastly! Oh, I should rather die than be like that. Old age! Oh, how terrible!" Here was a unique experience. I was witnessing the reactions of a nineteen-year-old girl who had never before seen the ravages of old age, and I could not but wonder if the subconscious effect of old age on youth accustomed to seeing it was not similar. But these meditations were interrupted by the return of the old woman, and I caught a new insight into the character of Duare. As the old woman entered the room, her arms laden, Duare ran forward and took the things from her. "You should have let me come with you and help you," she said. "I am younger and stronger." Then she placed the food and water upon a table, and with a sweet smile she put an arm about the withered shoulders of the old crone and drew her toward a bench. "Sit down," she said. "Nalte and I will prepare the food. You just sit here and rest until it is ready, and then we shall all eat together." The old woman looked at her in astonishment for a moment and then burst into tears. Duare dropped to the bench beside her and put her arms about her. "Why do you cry?" she asked. "I don't know why I cry," sobbed the old creature. "I feel like singing, but I cry. It has been so long since I have heard kind words, since any one has cared whether I was happy or sad, tired or rested." I saw the tears come to Duare's eyes and to Nalte's, and they had to busy themselves with the preparation of the food to hide their emotions.