"So where do I go from here?"
"That's your decision."
"I know. And I wish I knew how to make it."
She smiled at him sympathetically. "I wish I could help."
"Maybe you could."
She looked at him cryptically. "Not Alice Hemingway. I've got me a man out there who is combing space for all three of us. You'll have to make your own life and find your own girl."
"Suppose he doesn't find us?" he asked bluntly.
"Then," said Alice soberly, "we have no future to concern us, no decision to make, and no failure to measure up to or to account for to anybody."
"And we'll have died without having really lived?"