"The Mother's word is the Law, O hairy thing that smells." Her voice was derisive. "What Woman of our Clan so excites your fancy? One of those, I suppose?" She nodded toward a young and buxom breeding-mother, white-fleshed and not yet plump from over-bearing, who strolled down the walk-avenue with hips swaying enticingly. But Wilm shook his head. * * * * * "That?" he exclaimed. "Pah! What Man would want such a wobbly thing? I like a strong Woman; a Woman with arms like a weathered oak. A fighting Woman. A Woman like--" He paused breathlessly. Then, "A Woman like--_you_!" "_Me!_" The Warrior Chieftain gasped. Then the slow crimson started at her throat, spread slowly upward until it mantled her cheeks. And her voice was choked. "Like _me_, Man?" "Not just _like_ you," said Wilm staunchly. "_You!_" Meg waited for the Chieftain's reply, atingle inside with wonderment and tickling little fun-bubbles. Then Lora spoke, and her answer was the answer of all womankind to the new regime.... "You must be mad, Man!" she declared. "But--but I think I like your madness. We'll discuss it further if you'll go bathe the smell from your body. And shave off that _awful_ beard...." Meg looked at Daiv; he looked back at her, and a happy-look was on his lips. He whispered, "The change has begun, Golden One. The change for which I hoped. We will live in a new world soon. Surely the poet of the Ancient Ones wrote truth." "Poet?" asked Meg. "I do not understand, Daiv." "His name," said Daiv softly, "was Tensun. Long ages ago he wrote, 'The old order changeth, giving way to new ... and the Gods fulfill themselves in many ways....'"