can pierce the barriers of sense and see to the heart of things. And an outward vision that's defective, faltering, almost a blind man's vision. Clairvoyance and failing sight—it just doesn't make sense."

"Joan makes sense," Langford said. "If she were stone blind I'd still worship her."

Dr. Crendon held his hands straight out before him and looked down at them. "I did my best," he said, simply. "There were slight peculiarities of structure in the choroid but I'm sure that the new cornea will adjust. It's the retina itself, the innermost nervous tunic of the eye, that I'm worried about."

He paused, then went on quickly: "A mutant's retina is hypersensitive. It responds to light in a peculiar way and has a tendency to distort images. But that distortion vanishes when the mind becomes really active."

Langford looked at him. "Just what are you trying to tell me?"

"I'm not sure I know!" There were little puckers between Crendon's eyes. "Put it this way. If she doesn't brood too much, if she leads an active life and has complete confidence in her inner vision, her sight may improve. I think the failure of a mutant's sight may be partly due to—well, a kind of fear. Mutants feel cut off from 'normal' humanity—whatever that may be—and are tempted to use their inner vision as a means of escape. And when they do that the outer vision dims to the vanishing point."

"Then you think—"

"Make her feel that she can be of assistance to you in every moment of your waking life. Give her some important task to perform. Keep her with you, lad, as much as you can. She's missed you these many months. Make her realize you can't get along without her."

Langford's eyes held a dawning wonder; he seemed like a man from whom an immense weight had been lifted. "I was just about to tell you that I need her inward vision," he said. "Not only the eyes you've done your best to restore, but her powers of clairvoyance."

"You mean that?"

"Why should I lie to you, doctor?"

For the second time Crendon smiled. "No reason, I suppose. But I thought you might be deceiving yourself by pretending you needed her when you didn't. You've been under something of a strain."

It was Langford's turn to smile. "You don't know the half of it."

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