n named Ambrose Bierce?"

"I've read everything he ever wrote. Why did you ask that, Fred?"

"I--heard about him. I wondered who he was."

"Where did you hear about him, Fred? In Mexico?"

"No. I don't remember where I heard about him."

"He disappeared," she said quietly, "some time right before the first
world war. I've forgotten the exact year. I think it was 1914."

Before the war, before the "first" war.... And I thought of Jars' wife,
who had come to us just before this last planetary war--the "second"
world war. And what was his pet name for her? Guest, he called her, and
joked about her coming from another world. But didn't Jars defend the
discredited late-in-life theories of Akers? I tried to remember the name
of Jars' wife, and then it came.

I asked, "And Amelia Earhart?"

Jean's voice was rough. "July 2nd, 1937. I guess I'll never forget that,
when my god died. What are you trying to say? Is it some new damned cult
you're promoting, Fred?"

"You called her a god. Why, Jean?"

"I don't know. I was only thirteen when she died. But she was so clean,
so--so free and windswept, so--oh, what the spirit of America should
be--and isn't."

I looked up to see tears in her eyes. Why was she moved? This girl who
certainly knew corruption, this worldly, lovely girl. I smiled at her.

She wiped the tears with the back of her hand. "Fred, you are the
strangest--I know this town's a zoo, but you, Fred--"

I continued to smile at her. "I'm just a guy trying to learn. May I
repeat something I said last night? You're beautiful, Jean."

"You're no three-headed calf, yourself," she said.

Twin planets and parallel evolution.... Parallel destiny? Not with a
third planetary war shaping up here. Three major wars in less than fifty
years. Why, why, why....

She said, "Thinking, again? You do a lot of thinking, don't you?"

"I have to think of something besides you," I told her honestly. "I
can't afford to fall in love with you, Jean. I've too many places to go
and too many things to see."

She just stared at me. It must have been a full minute before she said,
"Well, I'll be damned."

After breakfast, it was still cold, and she said, "There'll be no swim
this morning, I see. If you want to get an appraisal on that diamond,
Fred, I'll phone one of our jewelers to come out."

"I'd appreciate that," I said. "Would it be all right if I took these
newspapers back to my room, now?"

"Just dandy," she said. "Sorry