"He may be proud," said the other, "but I am not cruel. Why should I move to hurt him? Time takes care of her own. This coming war will see." "Perhaps," said the other merchant. "Perhaps." Once over the island city of Toron, capital of Toromon, the transit ribbon breaks from its even course and bends among the towers, weaves among the elevated highways, till finally it crosses near a wide splash of bare concrete, edged with block-long aircraft hangars. Several airships had just arrived, and at one of the passenger gates the people waiting for arrivals crowded closely to the metal fence. Among them was one young man in military uniform. A brush of red hair, eyes that seemed doubly dark in his pale face, along with a squat, taurine power in his legs and shoulders; these were what struck you in the swift glance. A close look brought you the incongruity of the major's insignia and his obvious youth. He watched the passengers coming through the gate with more than military interest. Someone called, "Tomar!" And he turned, a grin leaping to his face. "Tomar," she called again. "I'm over here." A little too bumptiously, he rammed through the crowd until at last he almost collided with her. Then he stopped, looking bewildered and happy. "Gee, I'm glad you came," she said. "Come on. You can walk me back to father's." Her black hair fell close to broad, nearly oriental cheekbones. Then the smile on her first strangely, then attractively pale mouth fell. Tomar shook his head, as they turned now, arm in arm, among the people wandering over the field. "No?" she asked. "Why not?" "I don't have time, Clea," he answered. "I had to sneak an hour off just to get here. I'm supposed to be back at the Military Ministry in forty minutes. Hey, do you have any bags I can carry?" Clea held up a slide rule and a notebook. "I'm traveling light. In a week I'll be back at the university for summer courses, so I didn't bring any clothes. Wait a minute. You're not going to be too busy to get to the party Dad's giving me tonight, are you?" Tomar shrugged. Clea began a word, but pushed her tongue hard against the roof of her mouth. "Tomar?" she