he yelled,
and passed on without waiting for an answer.

The speaker must have been cut on to a battery circuit. "And get as far
away as possible," it ordered suddenly. "Jump from the forward port and
get as far away as possible. A ship is standing by. You will be picked
up. Jump from the--". It went dead again.

I got Joanna untangled from the wreckage. She was pale; her silvery eyes
were closed. I started dragging her slowly and painfully toward the
forward port, and the slant of the floor increased until it was like the
slide of a ski-jump. The officer passed again. "Can you handle her?" he
asked, and again dashed away.

I was getting there. The crowd around the port looked smaller, or was it
simply huddling closer? Then suddenly, a wail of fear and despair went
up, and there was a roar of water. The observation room walls had given.
I saw the green surge of waves, and a billowing deluge rushed down upon
us. I had been late again.

That was all. I raised shocked and frightened eyes from the
subjunctivisor to face van Manderpootz, who was scribbling on the edge
of the table.

"Well?" he asked.

I shuddered. "Horrible!" I murmured. "We--I guess we wouldn't have been
among the survivors."

"We, eh? _We?_" His eyes twinkled.

I did not enlighten him. I thanked him, bade him good-night, and went
dolorously home.

* * * * *

Even my father noticed something queer about me. The day I got to the
office only five minutes late, he called me in for some anxious
questioning as to my health. I couldn't tell him anything, of course.
How could I explain that I'd been late once too often, and had fallen in
love with a girl two weeks after she was dead?

The thought drove me nearly crazy. Joanna! Joanna with her silvery eyes
now lay somewhere at the bottom of the Atlantic. I went around half
dazed, scarcely speaking. One night I actually lacked the energy to go
home and sat smoking in my father's big overstuffed chair in his private
office until I finally dozed off. The next morning, when old N. J.
entered and found me there before him, he turned pale as paper,
staggered, and gasped, "My heart!" It took a lot of explaining to
convince him that I wasn't early at the office but just very late going
home.

At last I felt that I couldn't stand it. I had to do something--anything
at all. I thought finally of the subjunctivisor. I could see--yes, I
could see what would have transpired if the