Barbara took a sip of her own highball. "We won't lose a damned thing and you know it," she said quietly.
"A thousand years—"
"So what?" she asked simply. "Supposing that they were a bit more accurate than Scyth predicted. Suppose that they took this thousand years out of our life at a time when you weren't looking at the sun. Do you realize—" Barbara's voice lowered a bit dramatically, "—or have you been watching the night sky to see whether they have already?"
"I have," he admitted with rising excitement.
"All right," she replied complacently. "Then you surely must realize that this thousand years out of your life isn't going to change the stock market a point, or anything else."
Dusty nodded. "This I can realize. But do you think I like losing everything but my other shirt? Do you realize that as of this moment I've got only a couple of thousand bucks tucked away and about as much prospect of landing another job as a dead fly?"
"You're not really worried, are you, Dusty?"
"Why shouldn't I be?"
"Because as soon as this barytrine field goes on and off and we find ourselves around another sun, in another sky, you'll be corroborated."
He looked at her. "Of course—and I've kept my big trap shut, too."