voice throaty any more, and that annoyed her too. Once she had had to do it deliberately. But now, through the years, it had deepened.

"Not yet, Robert," she whispered. She let him feel the slight but firm resistance so nicely calculated to breach his own; watched the deepening flush of his cheeks with the clinical sureness that a thousand such experiences with men had given her.

Then, "Come in, Robert," she said, moving back a step. "I've been waiting for you."

She noted, approvingly, that Robert was in his spaceman's uniform, ready for the morrow's flight, as he went past her to the couch. She pushed the button which closed and locked the door, then seated herself beside the young spaceman on the silken couch.

His hands rested on her shoulders and he turned her until they faced each other.

"Ninon," he said, "you are so beautiful. Let me look at you for a long time—to carry your image with me through all of time and space."

Again Ninon let him feel just a hint of resistance, and risked a tiny pout. "If you could just take me with you, Robert...."

Robert's face clouded. "If I only could!" he said wistfully. "If there were only room. But this is an experimental flight—no more than two can go."

Again his arms went around her and he leaned closer.

"Wait!" Ninon said, pushing him back.

"Wait? Wait for what?" Robert glanced at his watch. "Time is running out. I have to be at the spaceport by dawn—three hours from now."

Ninon said, "But that's three hours, Robert."

"But I haven't slept yet tonight. There's been so much to do. I should rest a little."

"I'll be more than rest for you."

"Yes, Ninon.... Oh, yes."

"Not yet, darling." Again her hands were between them. "First, tell me about the flight tomorrow."

The young spaceman's eyes were puzzled, hurt. "But Ninon, I've told you before ... there is so much of you that I want to remember ... so little time left ... and you'll be gone when I get back...."

Ninon let her gray-green eyes narrow ever so slightly as she leaned away from him. But he blundered on.

"... or very old, no longer the Ninon I know ... oh, all right. But you know all this already. We've had space flight for years, but only rocket-powered, restricting us to our own system. Now we have a new kind of drive. Theoretically we can travel faster than light—how many times faster we don't know yet. I'll start finding out tomorrow, with the first test flight of the ship in which the new drive is installed. If it works, the universe is ours—we can go anywhere."

"Will it work?" Ninon could not keep the avid greediness out of her voice.

Robert said, hesitantly, "We think it will. I'll know better by this time tomorrow."

"What of you—of me—. What does this mean to us—to people?"

Again the young spaceman hesitated. "We ... we don't know, yet. We think that time won't have the same meaning to everyone...."

"... When you travel faster than light. Is that it?"

"Well ... yes. Something like that."

"And I'll be—old—or dead, when you get back? If you get back?"

Robert leaned forward and buried his face in the silvery-blonde hair which swept down over Ninon's shoulders.

"Don't say it, darling," he murmured.

This time Ninon permitted herself a wrinkling smile. If she was right, and she knew she was, it could make no difference now. There would be no wrinkles—there would be only the soft flexible skin, naturally soft and flexible, of real youth.

She reached behind her, over the end of the couch, and pushed three buttons. The light, already soft, dimmed slowly to the faintest of glows; a suave, perfumed dusk as precisely calculated as was the exact rate at which she let all resistance ebb from her body.

Robert's voice was muffled through her hair. "What were those clicks?" he asked.

Ninon's arms stole around his neck. "The lights," she whispered, "and a little automatic warning to tell you when it's