Green paused and looked steadily at her. Could he tell her the truth, now he was so near salvation? It was not that he was worried about her or the others stopping him from making contact with the expedition. Nothing could stop him now, he was sure of that. It was just that he hesitated to tell her that he would be leaving her. The idea of hurting her was agony to him. He started to speak in English, caught himself, and switched to her language. "Those vessels--they have brought my people from across the space between the stars. I came to this world in just such a vessel, a spaceroller, you might say. My ship crashed, and I was forced to descend upon this--your--world. Then, I heard that another ship had landed near Estorya and that King Raussmig had put the crew in prison and was going to sacrifice them during the Festival of the Sun's Eye. I had little time to get to Estorya before that happened, so I talked Miran into taking me. That was why I left you, that...." He trailed off because he did not understand the expression upon her face. It was not the great hurt he'd expected, nor the wild fury he thought might result from his explanation. If anything, she looked pitying. "Why, Alan, whatever are you talking about?" He pointed at the line of spaceships. "They're from Terra, my home planet." "I don't understand what you mean by your home planet," she replied still pityingly. "But those are not spaceships. Those are the towers built by the Estoryans a thousand years ago." "Wha-what do you mean?" Stunned, he looked at them again. If those weren't starships he'd eat the yacht's canvas. Yes, and the wheels, too. Under the swift wind, the 'roller swept closer and closer while he stood behind Amra and thought that he'd break into little pieces if his tension didn't find some release. Finally it did find an outlet. Tears welled in his eyes, and he choked. His breast seemed as if it would swell up and burst. How cleverly the ancient builders had fashioned those towers! The landing struts, the big fins, the long sweeping lines ending in the pointed nose, all must have been built with a spaceship as a model. There was no escaping such a conclusion; coincidence couldn't explain it. Amra said, "Don't cry, Alan. Your people will think you weak. Captains don't weep." "This captain does," he replied, and he turned and walked the length of the yacht to the stern and leaned over the taffrail where no one could see him as he shook with sobs. Presently he felt a hand upon his. "Alan," she said gently. "Tell me the truth. If those had been ships on which you could leave this world and travel into the skies, would you have taken me along? Were you still thinking that I was not--not good enough for you?" "Let's not talk about it now," he said. "I can't. Besides, there are too many people listening. Later, when everybody's asleep." "All right, Alan."