She tried to call back, but he wasn’t in, or didn’t answer. She washed her face, and got dressed. She was just putting lipstick on when he knocked. She nodded casually at the envelope on the bed. “May I?” “Go ahead.” She watched in the mirror while he read, saw pain flush his face and retire, and the doctor face take over. For a moment, she was certain that his pain was for her, and felt an answering surge of--gratitude? Then she told herself not to be foolish; Phil had plenty of reason for pain of his own when Johnny pulled one like this. They wound up in his office. Two days before lunar sundown, the view from this side of the Dome was a sharp contrast in near light and far dark; but even the still-lit portion of the Moon’s surface was without glare, since the shadowless Dome itself filtered the rays of the low-lying sun to give the moonscape from this window almost the look of atmosphered land. They sat in front of the window, with the inside lights off, and talked. They talked all around it, brushing it lightly just once in a while. She knew he would not push; but she also knew that she _had_ to talk to him, now. He wanted to give her reassurance and friendship; but this time she really needed advice. He was rambling on about a theory of heart disease he had seen in a journal of psychosomatic medicine, when the right moment came. “Phil?” she broke in. He stopped talking. That was all. No question, no look her way, even. He knew she was ready. “Phil, listen, this mess is--well, I don’t know if I mean it’s worse than you think, or better? If I could just tell for sure what he really wants--I mean--Phil, does he mean it? Or is he going to change his mind next week, and come yell for mama?” “You probably know the answer to that one better than I do.” “I guess I already answered it,” she admitted. Silence. Then: “So I guess _I_ have to decide what I’ll do when he does?” “Or you could just decide what to do _now_.” “How do you mean--? Well, yes, I hadn’t thought of that.” She heard her own short laugh, like that of a stranger. “I’ll have to have someplace to go. And my things are all--well, that doesn’t matter. There’s plenty of _money_,” she said angrily. “That helps, doesn’t it?” “Where were you thinking of going?” “Well, I _wasn’t_. I wasn’t _thinking_. And I kind of resent you making me start now.” Nothing. She looked at him. He was looking at her, smiling. An old friend. He _knew_. He didn’t know everything, though. “Phil?” “Hmmm?” “Remember that time I had lunch with you, right about when Chris was down?” “Yes.” “Remember I said Johnny might have to--to face up to something he wouldn’t like?” “Yes?” “Well--I--I’m pregnant, Phil. I thought so then, but I wasn’t sure.” _Well_, she thought gleefully, _I did it at last_! Phil Kutler had jumped forward in his chair, just like any _normal_ man. “You thought so in _June_?” He was absolutely _staring_! “How far along _are_ you then?”