Mr. Dayne said that she was. And Sam O'Neill, who had not known who the visitor was, first looked startled and then lapsed off into heavy musings....
The Director sat down on a chair by the door. His strong face looked tired.
"Won't you, a little later," he said to Mr. Dayne, "go down and say a few words to the people outside? They'd appreciate it."
The parson, biting his crisp mustache, said that he would.
Pond sat absently eyeing the pile of men's clothes beside him; and after a time he asked what they were there for. Mr. Dayne seemed less and less disposed for conversation. So it was Sam who told, in a somewhat halting fashion, of the coming of the crows....
Pond, whom no one could have taken for a sentimentalist, made no comment whatever. Presently he felt Mr. Dayne's eye upon him.
"Well, would it work out, do you think?"
The Director shook his head slightly, disclaiming authority. But after a time he said:
"Not as long as men'll try it only once every two thousand years."
The parson's eyes dreamed off.