But somehow she slipped free of my clasp, and stood dimly outlined before me in the shadows, herself no more than a shadow in this unreal world. “Not yet, my lover, not yet,” she forbade, in gentle tones that gave no indication of the hurt feelings I had feared. “But when, Aelios?” I demanded, baffled, but far from discouraged. “When--when may we get married?” “Not yet, not yet for a while--if ever,” she decided. “We must wait, we must wait until we are both quite certain.” She paused, then added casually, “Besides, remember, you have a duty to perform--an all-important duty with which neither your own pleasure nor your love must interfere.” “But what after I have performed that duty? What after my work is completed? Will you then--” “I will then be willing to listen to you again,” was all she would vouchsafe. “Come, let us be going now.” And she started for the door, while I followed awkwardly, since she knew the way much better than I. And, once outside, she began speaking impersonally about the art of the colonnades and marble galleries, and seemed to have forgotten entirely the subject that had been absorbing us. But in her eyes was an unusual sparkle, and in her cheeks an unwonted glow; and after I had left her and she had gone tripping out of sight, I pursued my way thoughtfully homeward, my steps made buoyant by a hope I once would not have dared to entertain. CHAPTER XXXI “The History of the Upper World” I had been in Atlantis two years before I had completed my “History of the Upper World.” Considering the magnitude of the task, it surprises me now to remember that I finished it so quickly, for not only was it longer than three average-sized volumes, but I was retarded by writing it in an adopted tongue and by having to work exclusively from memory and without reference books other than the Atlantean dictionaries. But six or seven hours of daily application is certain to show results even though one works slowly.