He breathed in and it was as if Niagara engulfed him. He breathed out; Vesuvius gave voice.

Scales slipped by against his check and fur filled his nostrils and flesh throbbed close to his lips, and fine wings fluttered, great winds blew; he was drenched by a salty rain (he became the History of Man, he became a thousand warm-blooded beasts, he knew unbearable tranquillity). He became pure pain and was the universe, the big slow-dancing stars. His body began to sing.

In the distance:

" My dear — my dear — my dearest dear… "

His eyes had shut. He opened them.

"My dear!"

Was it Amelia?

But, no — he could move — he could turn and see that she was slumped forward, insensible. Still the pale colours swam. They cleared.

Green oak trees surrounded a grassy glade; cool sunlight touched the leaves.

He heard a sound. She had tumbled from the capsule and lay stretched, face-forward, upon the ground. He climbed from his seat, his legs trembling, and went to her, even as the capsule made a wrenching noise and was gone.

"Amelia!" He touched soft hair, stroked the lovely neck, kissed the linen exposed by the torn velvet of her sleeve. "Oh, Amelia!"

Her voice was muffled. "Even these circumstances, Mr. Carnelian, do not entitle you to liberties. I am not unconscious." She moved her head so that her steady grey eyes could see him. "Merely faint. Perhaps a trifle stunned. Where are we?"

"Almost certainly at End of Time. These trees are of familiar workmanship." He helped her to her feet. "I think it is where we originally came across the Lat. It would be logical to return me here, for Nurse's sanctuary is not far distant." He had already recounted his adventures to her. "The Lat spaceship is probably also nearby."

She became nervous. "Should we not seek out your friends?"

"If they have returned. Remember, the last we saw of them was in London, 1896. They vanished — but did they return? Our destinations were the same. Almost certainly the Morphail Effect sent them home — but we know that Brannart's theories do not apply to all the phenomena associated with Time."

"We'll not be served by further speculation," she pointed out. "You have your power-rings, still?"

He was impressed by her sense. "Of course!" He stroked a ruby, turning three of the oaks into a larger version of the power-boat of the Palaeozoic, but translucent, of jade. "My ranch awaits us — rest or roister, as we will! " He bowed low as, with a set expression upon her beautiful features, she advanced towards the boat. He brought up the rear. "You do not think the jewelled propeller vulgar?" He was eager for her praise. "It seemed a refinement."

"It is lovely," said she, distantly. With considerable dignity, she entered the vessel. There were benches, quilted with cloth-of-gold. She chose one near the centre of the craft. Joining her, he lounged in the prow. A wave of a hand and the boat began to rise. He laughed. He was his old self again. He was Jherek Carnelian, the son of a woman, the darling of his world, and his love was with him.

"At last," he cried, "our aggravations and adventures are concluded. The road has been a weary one, and long, yet at its end what shall we find but our own little cottage complete with cat and kettle, cream, crumpets, cranberries, kippers, cauliflower, crackers, custard, kedgeree for tea, sweet, my dear Amelia, sweet tranquillity! Oh, you shall be happy. You shall!"

Stiffly though she sat, she seemed more amused than insulted. She seemed pleased to recognize the landscapes streaming by below, and she did not chide him for his use of her Christian name, nor for his suggestions which were, of course, improper.

"I knew it!" he sang. "You have learned to love the End of Time."

"It does have certain attractions," she admitted, "after the Lower Devonian."

The jade air-car reached the ranch and hovered. "You see," said Jherek, "it is almost exactly as you last saw it, before you were torn away from me and tumbled back through Time. It retains all the features you proposed, familiar comforts of your own dear Dawn Age. You will be happy, Amelia. And anything else you wish, it shall be yours. Remember — my knowledge of your needs, your age, is much more sophisticated now. You will not find me the naive who courted you so long, it seems, ago!"

"It is the same," she said, and her voice was wistful, "but we are not."

"I am more mature," he agreed, "a better mate."

"Ah!" She smiled.

He sensed ambiguity. "You do not love another? Captain Bastable…"

She became wicked. "He is a gentleman of excellent manners. And his bearing — so soldierly…" But her eyes laughed at her words. "A match any mother would approve. Were I not already married, I should be the envy of Bromley — but I am married, of course, to Mr. Underwood."

Jherek made the car spiral down towards the rose-gardens and the rockeries he had created for her, and he said with some nervousness: "He said he would — what? — 'divest' you!"

"Divorce. I should have to appear in court — millions of years from here. It seems," (turning so that he should not see her face), "that I shall never be free."

"Free? Free? No woman was ever more free. Here is humanity triumphant — Nature conquered — all desires may be fulfilled — of enemies, none. You can live as you please. I shall serve you. Your whims shall be mine, dearest Amelia!"

"But my conscience," she said. "Can I be free from that?"

His face fell. "Oh, yes, of course, your conscience. I was forgetting it." The car sank to the lawn. "You did not leave it, then, behind? In Eden?"

"There? I had greater need of it, did I not?"

"I thought you suggested otherwise."

"Then condemn me as fickle. All women are so."

"You contradict yourself, but apparently without relish."

"Ha!" She was the first to leave the craft. "You refuse to accuse me, Mr. Carnelian? You will not play the game? The old game?"

"I did not know there was a game, Amelia. You are disturbed? The set of your shoulders reveals it. I am confused."

She rounded on him, but her face was softening. Her eyes held disbelief, fast fading. "You do not try me for my femininity? I am not accused of womanliness?"

"All this is meaningless."

"Then perhaps there is a degree of freedom here, at the End of Time, mixed with all your cruelties."

"Cruelties?"

"You keep slaves. Casually, you destroy anything which bores you. Have you no consideration for these time-travellers you capture? Was I not captured so — and put in a menagerie? And Yusharisp — bartered for me. Even in my age such barbarities are banished!"

He accepted her admonishment. He bowed his head. "Then you must teach me what is best," he said. "Is this 'morality'?"

She was overwhelmed, suddenly, by the enormity of her responsibility. Was it salvation she brought to Paradise, or was it merely guilt? She hesitated. "We shall discuss it, in the fullness of time," she told him.

They set foot upon the crazy paving of the path, between low yew-hedges. The ranch — Gothic red brick reproduction of her ideal Bromley villa — awaited them. A parrot or two perched on chimneys and gables; they seemed to flute a welcome.

"It is as you left it," he said. He was proud. "But, elsewhere, I have built for you a 'London', so that you shall not be homesick. It still pleases you, the ranch?"

"It is as I remember it."

He understood that he read disappointment in her tone.

"You compare it now with the original, I suppose."

"It has the essentials of the original."

"But remains a 'mere copy', eh? Show me…"

She had reached the porch, ran a hand over the painted timber, fondled a still-blooming rose (for none had faded since she had vanished), touched the flower to her nose. "It has been so long," she murmured. "I needed familiarity, then."