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remembered that Rog had been married to Toni and changed the subject hurriedly. She talked of Dick, the first person she thought of.
    "Yes, Dick is a genius," Rng agreed dutifully. "He has to understand without demonstration, without experiment. And yet, really, he's more a practical man than Bentley. I think when Dick's in charge of the lab we'll really begin making things again."
    "But we are making things!" June was rather indignant, for she spent hours each day weaving cloth. The Mundans had no money, but the Council doled out work that had to be done all the same. Otherwise the supply of eggs and meat and bread might stop; unless you happened to bake bread, when it would be the supply of eggs and meat and cloth.
    "Yes, but only the things we must make. Doing only the things you must do isn't living -- just existing. The old people are to blame for that. When they could, they didn't explore, found no mines, set up no machines -- "
    "They made the pumps and the looms!"
    "The things they had to make. They didn't dig for stone or coal or iron or nickel -- "
    "How do you know these things would have been there if they'd dug for them?"
    Rog laughed. "Well, certainly they'll never find them if they don't. Besides, you don't really look for anything in particular, at first. You just look, and see what you get. If you don't find iron, you get copper or silver or tin . . . "
    Just as he was going to carry on the discussion, he had one of his flashes of insight. Though June would keep putting off his talking about him and her, she really wanted him not to take no for an answer, and sweep her off her feet.
    "June, listen," 'he said. "You know why we're here."
    She seemed to know that by turning her head just a fraction her face was in black shadow and Rog couldn't see her expression. "Yes," she whispered.
    "It's only interim marriage I'm suggesting," he said softly. "It's not irrevocable. You needn't feel you're going to be tied to me forever."
    "How serious are you? Do you already mean it to be only a few weeks? Have you planned that?"
    "I think," said Rog with the gift of compelling sincerity that was one of his most useful talents, "I mean it forever, June."
    June said: "I'll marry you, Rog."
    There was silence for ten seconds.
    Then as he was reaching for her shoulders to turn her lips to his she turned abruptly. "Let's go back and tell them."
    Rog understood. She wanted time to realize it now. Dick congratulating her, people talking to her, Rog standing with her in other people's presence, so that she could gradually begin to believe it.
    He was right, but only half right. For when Dick had been staring at her bent head, puzzled, earlier in the day, she had been thinking that same wild, fantastic thing: perhaps that evening would be the evening of her life, and Rog Foley would notice her as something more than Dick's kid sister, and . . . But she hadn't gone further than that. That made it all the more difficult, now, to accept the impossible truth.
    She was Rog Foley's wife.
    II
    1
    It was just an informal meeting at Jessie Bendall's house. It wasn't an Inner Council sitting; but the fact remained that Jessie was the President of the Council since John Pertwee had been stripped of office, and Brad Hulton, Jim and Mary Bentley, Tom Robertson and Henry Boyne were all Inner Council members. It was a gathering of the leaders of the founder colonists, however informal.
    "I'm sorry we have to hold this meeting," Mary said. At fifty-four she was better-looking than her daughter. Alice had vivacity and youth and a certain piquancy of feature, but Mary, alone among the founder colonists, was left with some of the regal beauty of maturity, end none of the youngsters had reached that stage yet. "We're going behind our children's backs, reaching our own conclusious independently, and then voting in a block at the official sittings. That's the unpleasant truth, isn't it?"
    "Yes, said Robertson vehemently, "because they re doing the same