"Well, anyway, of course Bobby isn't frightening. But that business of the tigers--_that_ is!" "They didn't hurt anyone." "No, but don't you see, John? It's--irresponsible. How do you fit it in with your super-intelligent super-beings?" "Ann," he said impatiently, "we're dealing with fantastically intelligent beings, but beings who are still _children_--can't you understand that? They're just finding out their powers--one is a telepath, another levitates, a third is a teleport. A riot is started by Alec Cress or Jacky Hodge or one of those 3R hoodlums. And our child genius can't resist making a kind of joke of his own." "Joke? With _tigers_? John, I tell you I'm frightened." Her husband said nothing and she looked at him sharply. "You _hope_ it's this way, don't you?" For a moment he didn't answer. Then he sighed. "Yes. Yes, I do both believe and hope I'm right, Ann. I never thought that I'd be willing to give up the struggle--that's what it amounts to. But I don't think the human race can manage itself any more. So, I'm willing and glad to have some other race teach us how to live. I know we've always looked on the idea of domination by some race from the stars with both terror and revulsion. But we've made such a mess of things on Earth that I, at least, would be glad to see them come." After a while, Ann said, "I've got to do some shopping for supper." She began mechanically putting her work away. "You're shocked?" "Yes. And relieved, too, a little. And, at the same time, still a bit frightened." "It's probably for the best." "Yes. It's sad, though. Have you told this to anyone else?" "No. After all, it's still only a theory. I've got to find some kind of proof. Except that I don't know how." "You've convinced me." She stood in the doorway, then turned to him and he could see that she was crying. She dashed the tears from her eyes. "I suppose we have to go on doing the same things. We have to have dinner tonight. I must shop...." He took her in his arms. "It'll be all right," he said. "I feel so helpless! What are you going to _do_?" "Right now," he said, "I think I'll go fishing." Ann began to laugh, a little hysterically. "You _are_ relaxed about it," she said. "Might as well relax and give it more thought." Ann kissed him and went into the kitchen. She was gone when he came out with his rod and creel. Going down the walk under the trees, he was aware again of what a fine autumn afternoon it was. He began to whistle as he went down the hill toward the stream. He didn't catch anything, of course. He had fished the pool at least a hundred times without luck, but that did not matter. He knew there was a fighting old bass in its depths and, probably, he would have been sorry to catch him. Now, his line gently agitated the dark water as he sat under a big tree on the stream bank and smoked. Idly he opened the copy of Yeats' poems and began reading: _Turning and turning in the widening gyre...._