Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 51 — page 88: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

‘ A poignant tale dealing with something that too many people laugh at. JEAN—GENE—JEANNE by CLIFFORD C. REED E had come a long way H from the earth, and he had been a long time on -the way. That did not worry him. He had not kept count of the days or the weeks. For him that was finished. It might well be that he was finished also. It probably was so. What he had done was so unutterably foolish that, back home, although he knew no- thing of it, and would not have cared had he been told, the law had already declared him to be dead, and had wound up the infinitesimal balance of his estate. No man, not a navigator, hurls himself, alone, out into space. Not voluntarily. No sane man. Therefore Jean Leslie was insane. An insane man, unversed in navigation, having driven his craft away from the earth on what, after all possible enquiry, was esti- mated as a barren course, 87 could not hope to plot a safe return. The odds against such an improbability being manifestly astronomical, the law had conceded that any hope of Jean Leslie’s return, even his survival, could be deemed negligible. Accordingly he was presumed dead, legally, and the story of his departure died also in the papers, and a fresh titillation was featured by editors insistent on head- line news. All this was no concern of his. He had settled his out- standing debts. He had no dependants whom he could accuse himself of having de- serted. All he had deserted was his environment, and that only because his environment had treacherously deserted him. Or so he had at first thought. The psychiatrist to whom he had gone had put things dif- comicloooks.com