"I want to apologize," I said.

With something very close to compassion, the Widow said, "It's too late forthat, Danny. It's over. Everything's over. You and I only ever had the one traitin common. We neither of us could ever let go of anything. Small wonder we'reback together again. But don't you see, it doesn't matter what you want or don'twant--you're not going to get it. Not now. You had your chance. It's too late tomake things right." Then she stopped, aghast at what she had just said. But weboth knew she had spoken the truth.

"Widow," I said as gently as I could,

"I'm sure Charlie--"

"Shut up."

I shut up.

The Widow closed her eyes and swayed, as if in a wind. A ripple ran through herand when it was gone her features were simpler, more schematic, lessrecognizably human. She was already beginning to surrender the anthropomorphic.

I tried again. "Widow ... " Reaching out my guilty hand to her.

She stiffened but did not draw away. Our fingers touched, twined, mated.

"Elizabeth," she said. "My name is Elizabeth Connelly."

We huddled together on the ceiling of the Roxy through the dawn and the blankhorror that is day. When sunset brought us conscious again, we talked throughhalf the night before making the one decision we knew all along that we'd haveto make.

It took us almost an hour to reach the Seven Sisters and climb down to thehighest point of Thalia.

We stood holding hands at the top of the mast. Radio waves were gushing out fromunder us like a great wind. It was all we could do to keep from being blownaway.

Underfoot, Thalia was happily chatting with her sisters. Typically, at ourmoment of greatest resolve, they gave not the slightest indication of interest.But they were all listening to us. Don't ask me how I knew.

"Cobb?" Elizabeth said. "I'm afraid."

"Yeah, me too." A long silence. Then she said, "Let me go first. If you go