An aeroplane booms overhead. We follow its evolutions with our faces
skyward, our necks twisted, our eyes watering at the piercing
brightness of the sky.

Lamuse declares to me, when we have brought our gaze back to earth,
"Those machines'll never become practical, never."

"How can you say that? Look at the progress they've made already,
and the speed of it."

"Yes, but they'll stop there. They'll never do any better, never."

This time I do not challenge the dull and obstinate denial that
ignorance opposes to the promise of progress, and I let my big
comrade alone in his stubborn belief that the wonderful effort of
science and industry has been suddenly cut short.

Having thus begun to reveal to me his inmost thoughts, Lamuse
continues. Coming nearer and lowering his head, he says to me, "You
know she's here--Eudoxie?"

"Ah!" said I.

"Yes, old chap. You never notice anything, you don't, but I
noticed," and Lamuse smiles at me indulgently. "Now, do you catch
on? If she's come here, it's because we interest her, eh? She's
followed us for one of us, and don't you forget it."

He gets going again. "My boy, d'you want to know what I say? She's