Authentic Science Fiction Monthly, No. 67 — page 54: what you’re looking at

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

A WOMAN’S WORK and a part of her would go with him into the wastes between the stars. No, she had not wasted her life. Evening came and the time to go home. For once she did not join the rush, but instead lingered for a little while, conscious of the fact that now there was no need of haste, no meal to prepare, nothing to demand her whole atten- tion. So she walked, taking her time, and it was long after her usual hour that she finally reached home. She sensed something wrong as soon as she opened the door. It was nothing immediately apparent, more of an in- tangible, but as she stood in the doorway she felt her heart pound with sudden trepida- tion. Then John rose from where he had been sitting, hidden by the back of the big arm- chair she had bought for his comfort while reading and, smiling, walked towards her. ““Margaret! You are so 53 late! I was getting quite worried about you.” *“John!”’ She stared at him as though he had been a thing of vapour instead of too-real flesh and blood. Then the door swung shut behind her. She was walking across the room, her coat was on the rack, and by the time she faced him, her heart had steadied from its pounding. *““Aren’t you glad to see me?’’ He stared at her, his blue eyes puzzled, his hands half-extended before him in mute appeal. “‘I’ve been wait- ing for hours.” “Have you?” Margaret took a deep breath. “I didn’t expect to see you. What happened ?” : ““Happened?”’ He frowned at her, avoiding her eyes. “Why, nothing. I just thought that you’d be pleased to see me. Aren’t you?” “IT don’t know.” Even to herself her voice sounded > strained and brittle and, deep inside of her, gladness welled at the sight of him. But there was something deeper, comicloooks.com