And now Mattern had been her husband for several months. He had begun
to know her, and he realized that she could never be let known the
truth about his life and his work. She would be frightened, and, if
there was any emotion left over in her, angry.
He told the kqyres: "I've been thinking of taking Lyddy to Burdon. She
might find distractions there that will take her mind off--things it
shouldn't be on. What do you think of the idea?"
"I cannot tell," the kqyres replied doubtfully. "I have a curious
feeling...."
"That _what_?" Mattern prompted him anxiously. It was the first time he
had seen the kqyres definitely at a loss, although it had seemed to him
of recent months that the xhind's assurance was beginning to ebb.
"... that I am getting too old for my work," the kqyres finished.
"Nonsense!" Mattern cried. The kqyres was his tower of strength; he
_would_ not conceive of any weakness in him. It would mean that he
would be forced to rely upon himself. _And yet_, he thought, _I am
certainly old and experienced enough by now to begin relying upon
myself. In fact, I'm getting a little old and tired, too._
"You know," he said to his partner, "maybe we both ought to retire."
"What do you mean?"
"You've been at this long enough and I've got all the money I want.
We can see each other sometimes; no reason why I couldn't go into
hyperspace just to visit."
The kqyres paled to pearl. "Now that you have Lyddy, you don't want
anything else at all?"
"Now that I have Lyddy, what else is there to want?"