They knew in this era how to make it nice for young people in love, if you could afford one of the better places. Pete sat across the table from Nancy at a tiny table on a roof far above the city. The room was crowded, but some trick of design made it seem that they were alone together. There was real music played by real people. Some of the melodies were old ones that brought a mood of nostalgia to the time man, with memories of past loves. But then he looked across at Nancy, with her innocent laughing eyes, and the beauty of her brought a lump to his throat that drove out all the small loves of the past. This was it. This time he was really in love. "Pete," she said, "don't you ever get tired of it? Of jumping through the ages, coming back to find your old friends gone, being a stranger in a strange world? For instance, how about me? You'll be back from Sirius or Altair some day, a year or two older, and I'll be an old woman? How does it really feel?" Pete took her hands and stared earnestly into her eyes. She was more serious than he'd ever seen her as she gazed back at him. "It's not the right way to live, Nancy. A man doesn't really live, in the real meaning of life. A man needs a woman, a wife he can come home to." He squeezed her hands gently. "Nancy, will you marry me?" Her hands trembled in his grasp. "I will, Pete--oh, Pete, I've been so hoping--and so afraid. But, Pete, your job...?" He smiled reassuringly. "I'm signed up for a trip, but it's only a short one--that planet of Proxima Centauri they just discovered is on the list for a complete survey. But I'll be back in--seven, eight years. Then we can really settle down." She bent over the table and kissed him. "I'll wait, Pete." "No, Nancy. Now. We'll be married first; I'll still be here a couple of months, why waste them? I don't want to take any chances of losing you." "I wanted to hear that, Pete." Her eyes were shining with happiness. "About getting married now, I mean--there's no chance of your losing me." Pete was serious about settling down after the short trip to Proxima. At least he was serious about it now. But after that trip was over.... He didn't think about that sort of thing any more. He had tried to puzzle it out a few times, how he could tell a girl he was making one more trip, and mean it, and then one more and then one more until a happy young girl was suddenly a disillusioned embittered old woman. There was a paradox of conscience here that he had given up trying to resolve. When he said he was making one more trip, he meant it. But at the same time he knew that when he came back he'd sign up for another. If he meant what he said when he said it, even though he knew he'd change his mind later-- His conscience was clear. And of course a man must be practical. His earnings must be invested, and the future provided for. The honeymoon was still new when the insurance agent responded to Pete's call.