There was a silence, as immensity dawned dimly on Garth's mind. Then he said slowly:
"I'm trying to think. Do you mean that some of the stars are so far away that it takes light, going that fast, a hundred thousand years to get to us?"
"Yes," Joan whispered.
"Oh, don't!" he said. "It makes me feel all queer and empty. Let's look at our Light. That's like a nice, near star. I don't like things to be so far away as that."
They held each other's hands and looked drowsily at the far lamp that burned above the water.
"It's been there all the time," murmured Garth, "and Fogger and Mudder—are—there, and everybody—in the world—is—asleep, except—us."
The ancient stars blazed on; the sea, almost as ancient, fingered the beach ceaselesly, creeping and falling back, and creeping again. But now, according to Garth's notion, everybody in the world was asleep.
When Joan woke again, she could not think what had happened. For there was no ceiling above her, nothing but flat, empty gray, and
