"I tried to bring back Mars," he went on, "but I found I couldn't. In fact, I discovered that these things were evidently accidental, depending upon a frame of mind or something. Anyway, I slept on the couch that night, went out the next day and bought her some clothes at a store in town." "Was she--er--constructed like Earth women," the psychiatrist asked, at a sudden thought. Moore blushed. "Yes," he said, "very definitely like Earth women. Except for one thing--she had six fingers on each hand." The psychiatrist had been toying with the pencil. At that revelation he froze briefly. Then he tried to laugh it off mentally. No, it couldn't be. "Weeks passed, and she didn't appear to be able to get adjusted," Moore said. "That's when I suggested she go to you." Dr. Rawlings dropped the pencil completely. "The woman from Mars," he exclaimed. "_You_ sent her here?" Moore nodded soberly. "Yes, and I'd like to get her back. I'm in love with her." "I haven't got her." He began to wish he did. "I know. She was picked up in a rocket ship. Everyone else around here thinks it was a meteorite, but she told me before she left that they'd traced her by brainwaves or something, and would pick her up." "And just what do you expect me to do?" the psychiatrist wanted to know. He picked up the pencil and made black lines over the 'h' in 'hallucinations.' "I want you to help me discover what frame of mind must be cultivated to recreate Mars. I've got a hunch it's a subconscious problem. I've been accidentally creating all sorts of alien worlds behind doors when I least expect them. That's why I hesitated outside your office, to make certain when I opened the door the office would really be here. "Why, only last week I opened a door to the men's rest room at the University and found myself staring down into the Great Nebula in Andromeda. If I'd stepped through...." He shuddered. "I don't know if going through would change me, but if I ever see Mars again--" "Well, I think we can help you there," the psychiatrist told him. "Suppose you come around Wednesday, at two o'clock. That satisfactory?" * * * * * Moore rose, smiling. "Fine," he said. "And thanks a lot, doctor. You'll never know how much this means to me." "Quite all right, quite all right. See you Wednesday." Moore went to the door, opened it, went through to the outer office. Well, thank goodness that was over. The psychiatrist breathed a sigh of relief. One of these days that chicken farm was going to be a reality. If this kept up.... He pressed a button on the intercom. "When's the next patient, Miss Austin?" "Not until tomorrow, Dr. Rawlings," she cooed. "You have plenty of time for Mr. Moore yet." "Plenty of time for--What are you talking about? He went through that door about a minute ago." The receptionist was silent for a minute, then she said, "He couldn't have. No one's come out of your office. I've been here all the time."