“No,” said Alan, looking at the blue hangings, and seeing in them the reflection of his love’s eyes. “No, this one will do beautifully.” And the Waz was impressed by the easy way in which his friend was pleased. He little realized that it was the name of the vessel—the Chlorie—that attracted him. And in the strangeness of it Alan tried to read his fate. “We’ll go for a short cruise,” said the Waz, “and go back to the landing stage Minniviar.” There was not a cloud in the sky, and the warmth from the sun’s rays was pleasant. “I can’t understand how you benefit so considerably from the sun, your Kymo,” said Alan. “Let me see, you must be at least five times further away from the sun than we were on our earth, yet instead of your light and heat being reduced to about one twenty-fifth of our supply, you appear to benefit to exactly the same degree.” “Ah, my friend, that is easy to explain. Dark clouds hover outside our globe—” “Yes, bands of vapour,” corrected Alan. “Well—vapour. These bands completely encircle our world. They are saturated with a composition of gas, sulphuric ether I think you would call it. Well, this gas acts as a trap to the sun’s rays. It admits the solar rays to our planet but prevents their withdrawal. Therefore it permits the heat to enter, but prevents its escape.” “Well?” “Consequently we get the maximum of light, and an equable temperature.” “Do you then, have no seasons here?” “Seasons?” “Yes, Spring or Winter.” “Oh yes, it is cold at the poles—very cold, but as we get nearer to the equator it becomes warmer, and hardly varies. You see, my Alan, our world differs from yours. The axis of rotation is almost perpendicular to our orbit, consequently we are not subject to seasons as you were in Quilphis.” “I didn’t know that before.” “We too, are more flattened at each end—indeed, there are many differences between our world that is, and yours that was.” “Do you ever have rain here?” “Yes, my Alan. How else would plants live and crops thrive? But again, we do not suffer from excesses.” “But don’t you have hurricanes that last from six to seven weeks? Surely those are excesses.” “Hurricanes? I do not know the word.” “Hurricanes—winds—tornadoes.” “Why they affect only the polar regions, and nothing lives there.” “Well,” laughed Alan “I think your world is a great improvement on ours.” The scenery they passed on this pleasure trip was very varied, but very similar to the world he knew at its best. Here he could imagine he was in the highlands of Scotland with its crags and hills and torrents. There in Southern France with its vineyards sloping to the river’s edge. Again, the warmth of colouring suggested the tropics, and the next moment they were flying over great inland arms of a sea, that were reminiscent of the fjords of Norway. They descended at last, and went to the Jkak to bid him farewell. There a surprise awaited Alan.