We were moving now as clouds that rush across a moon.

"I think I have been watching for you all my life and willing you to
come," he said, which shows how dreadfully unjust we sometimes are to
humans.

"While I was on another planet?" I inquired. "While we were millions
and millions of miles apart? Suppose that I had never come to Earth?"

We were moving like the falling stars one journeys to the Dark
Hemisphere to see.

"I should have found you all the same," he whispered, half laughing, but
his blue eyes glistened. "I do not think that space itself could
separate us."

"Oh, do you realize that?" I asked, "and do you really know?"

"I know I have you with me now," he said, "and that is all I care to
know."

We were flying now, flying as comets fly to perihelion. The world about
was slipping from us, disintegrating and dissolving into cosmic thoughts
expressed in color. Only his eyes were actual, and the blue hills far
away, and the wind from them in the key of the Pleiades.

"There shall never any more be time or space for us," he said.

"But," I protested, "we must not overlook the fundamental facts."