eyes and rest, and then--then--"

"_This?_"

She nodded.

"Same here," said he. "What the deuce _can_ have struck us? Us and
everybody--and everything? Talk about your problems! Lucky I'm sane
and sound, and--and--"

He did not finish, but fell once more to studying the incomprehensible
prospect.

Their view was towards the east, but over the river and the reaches of
what had once upon a time been Long Island City and Brooklyn, as
familiar a scene in the other days as could be possibly imagined. But
now how altered an aspect greeted them!

"It's surely all wiped out, all gone, gone into ruins," said Stern
slowly and carefully, weighing each word. "No hallucination about
_that_." He swept the sky-line with his eyes, that now peered keenly
out from beneath those bushy brows. Instinctively he brought his hand
up to his breast. He started with surprise.

"What's this?" he cried. "Why, I--I've got a full yard of whiskers. My
good Lord! Whiskers on _me?_ And I used to say--"

He burst out laughing. At his beard he plucked with merriment that
jangled horribly on the girl's tense nerves. Suddenly he grew serious.
For the first time he seemed to take clear notice of his companion's