"I've dreamed of the day when I could say this!" he cried.
"Congratulations, Gregory!"

* * * * *

That touched off another bedlam, of joy, this time, instead of despair.
Benson hid his amusement at the facility with which all of them were
discovering in one another the courage, vision and stamina of true
patriots and pioneers. He let it go on for a few moments, hoping to
glean some clue. Finally, he interrupted.

"I believe I asked a couple of questions," he said, using the voice he
reserved for sergeants and second lieutenants. "I hate to break up this
mutual admiration session, but I would appreciate some answers. This
isn't anything like the situation I last remember...."

"He remembers!" Gregory exclaimed. "That confirms your first derivation
by symbolic logic, and it strengthens the validity of the second...."

The schoolteacherish woman began jabbering excitedly; she ran through
about a paragraph of what was pure gobbledegook to Benson, before the
man with the arrogant face and the jewelled zipper-pull broke in on her.

"Save that for later, Paula," he barked. "I'd be very much interested in
your theories about why memories are unimpaired when you time-jump
forward and lost when you reverse the process, but let's stick to
business. We have what we wanted; now let's use what we have."

"I never liked the way you made your money," a dark-faced, cadaverous