Margo, her hair streaming, sat half switched around with her knees on the seat between her and Paul, so she could watch the smokingly bronzed moon. She had her jacket spread on her lap. On it was Miaow, curled up in a gray doughnut and fast asleep, or giving a good imitation.

“We’re getting near Vandenberg Two,” Paul said. “We could look at the moon through one of the Project ’scopes.”

“Will Morton Opperly be there?” Margo asked.

“No,” Paul replied, smiling faintly. “He’s over in the Valley these days, at Vandenberg Three, playing master sorceror to all the other theory boys.”

Margo shrugged and looked sideways up. “Doesn’t the moon ever black out?” she wondered. “It’s still sooty copper.”

Paul explained to her about the ring-glow.

“How long does the eclipse last, anyway?” she asked, and when he said, “Two hours,” she objected: “I thought eclipses were over in seconds, with everybody getting excited and dropping their cameras.”

“Those are the eclipses of the sun — the totality part.”

Margo smiled and leaned back. “Now tell me about the star photographs,” she said. “You can’t possibly be overheard in a moving car. And I’m not so worked up about them now. I’ve stopped worrying about Don — the eclipse is just a bronze blanket for him.”

Paul hesitated.

She smiled again. “I promise not to rev my mind at all. I’d just like to understand them.”

Paul said: “I can’t promise you any understanding. Even the astro big-wigs only made profound noises. Including Opperly.”