He invited me to call again, hoping that I would find leisure from my many engagements to promise him at least one visit before returning to my own country. His seeming sincerity was very complimentary. Flattery is a strong point with the Centaurians. I found Abella waiting for me in the vestibule, seated in a wide, deep-silled window overlooking the bay. Beautiful Abella—she had ceased to interest me. “You have been long,” she murmured; “but the work is wonderful.” “Your husband is a master,” I replied. She looked happy, gratified, and asked me to be seated, pointing to the place beside her. I declined, then with the brutality of indifference told her I was going, would return to Centur that evening. “So soon!” she gasped, a startled expression coming to the sweet eyes, then she turned aside and in cold tones told me she regretted my departure. It was enough. I should have gone, but the situation tantalized gallantry. No man could have left her like that. I drew the girl to me and slowly raised her arms till they rested around my neck. “Abella,” I whispered: “You are sad that I go?” She raised the lovely eyes brimful of tears, the sweet mouth with its full red lips quivered, drooped, and was very close. “Abella!” I murmured; then our lips met in a long, long kiss—her first kiss of love. Ah, but she was beautiful! With a low cry she darted from me and with her face well averted bade me go. “Go,” she muttered; “go to Alpha Centauri.” With the name of the woman I worshipped reason returned. Without a word I left her—left her forever. Abella was completely forgotten in the exciting events that followed. Possibly I acted wrong, but was innocent of harm, and did none. True, Abella had met with an experience few women of Centauri ever encounter, but I knew her brilliant eyes would be dimmed but a few minutes after my departure, and in a very little time I would cease to be anything but a remembrance, a pleasant remembrance circling in dreamy mist till submerged, obliterated. Abella and all the women of this strange land are devoid of depth, which is the secret of their great beauty. Nothing affected them, the perfect surface challenged contact with the cold hardness of gems, ills glanced aside, leaving a placid, flawless mask. I shall always remember Abella, but knew she had forgotten me long before I left her wonderful and unnatural world. CHAPTER XVI. Saunders, whom I had not seen for several days, met me as I returned to the Observatory. Undoubtedly one of his pet experiments had gone awry, for he was peevish and spoiling for a fight. He very frankly informed me he didn’t want me around any more, that arrangements were completed to start that evening upon a gigantic piece of work and no idlers wanted. “And I’ve spied the attraction!” he snapped. “Clear out; this is no place for such tomfoolery.” “But, Saunders!” I interrupted.