"I'm serious, Portia."

"I know." She laughed a little more, then straightened her face. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"You're always laughing at me. Why?"

"I don't mean to."

"I want to marry you, Portia."

"I know." And instantly her eyes were grave. "I've known for a long time."

"I've wanted you since the day you first looked at me."

"I've known that, too."

"It was all I could do to—"

"You've been more than kind, Cliff."

"When, darling? When can I marry you?"

She looked up. "Tomorrow?"

His heart leaped. "Marry you tomorrow?"

She nodded. "Tomorrow."

Was there something odd in her look? He couldn't decide.

When Clifton went to bed that night his heart sang. The years ahead no longer seemed appalling and interminable. How they'd spend them! The sewing room ... it could always be changed back into a nursery. Portia had shown no interest in sewing, so he'd just store Karen's stuff. Perhaps somebody would find use for it when they landed on Ostarpa. It wasn't unusual for captains and their wives to have a half dozen kids during transit.

He went to sleep with the sound of children's feet echoing about the halls and corridors of the ship. And when he dreamed of the marriage it was, oddly, Karen he was marrying.

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