sion was that she was very beautiful--and that
impression I was never called upon to revise. About her lithe young
body she had the merest scrap of some curious green fabric--ample in
the warm air of the great cavern. Luxuriant brown hair fell loose
about her white shoulders. She was not quite twenty years old, I
supposed; her body was superbly formed, with the graceful curves and
the free, smooth movements of a wild thing.

Ray stood motionless for a moment, thunder-struck as I was, while the
sobbing girl clung to his knees. Then the astonishment on his face
gave place to pity.

"Poor kid!" he murmured.

He bent, took her tenderly by the shoulder, helped her to her feet.

Her beauty burst upon us like a great light. Smoothly white, her skin
was, perfect. Wide blue eyes, now appealing, even piteous, looked
from beneath a wealth of golden brown hair. White teeth, straight and
even, flashed behind the natural crimson of her lips.

She stood staring at Ray, in a sort of enchantment of wonder. An eager
light of incredible joy flamed in her amazing eyes; red lips were
parted in an unconscious smile of joy. She looked like the troubled
princess in the fairy tale, when the prince of her dreams appeared in
the flesh.

"God, but you're beautiful!" Ray's words slipped out as if he were
hardly conscious of them. He flushed quickly, stepped back a little.

The girl's lips opened. She voiced a curious cry. It was deep toned,
pealing with a wonderful timbre. A happy burst of sound, like a baby
makes. But strong, ringing, musically golden. And pathetically eager,
pitifully glad, so that it brought tears to my eyes, cynical old man
that I am.

I saw Ray wipe his eyes.

"Can you talk?" Ray put the question in a clear, deliberate voice,
with great kindness ringing in it.

"Talk?" The chiming, golden voice was slow, uncertain. "Talk? Yes. I
talked--with mother. But for long--I have had no need to talk."

"Where is your mother?" Ray's voice was gentle.

"She is gone. She was here when I was little." The clear, silvery
voice was more certain now. "Once, when I was almost as big as
she--she was still. She was cold. She did not move when I called her.
The Things took her away. She was dead. She told me that sometime she
would be dead."

* * * * *

Bright tears came in the wide blue eyes, trickled down over the
perfect face. A pathetic catch was in the deliberate, halting voice. I
turned away,