"I thought not. Carol," he said, and his voice was unexpectedly full of compassion, "you're going to have a very sick man on your hands. It won't be pleasant for either you or me, and it's going to be horrible for him. But it must be gone through. He must be told."
"For heaven's sake, what is it?"
"The L in L-treatment," he said slowly, "stands for longevity. That was what he was treated for. But you see now why it was found to be dangerous and discontinued. The reason you never heard of it is that it was developed and discarded two hundred years ago. Callendar wasn't adrift in space for a year or two, as he thinks. He was adrift for two centuries."
"No! Oh, no!"
"That's why the clothes in those pictures seemed odd. They've been in style and out again half a dozen times, with slight changes each time. That is why, furthermore, he can't find his wife and children on any of Jupiter's moons. The moons were first colonized ninety years ago."
"But he says—"
"He'll never see his wife and children again. They've lived their lives and died and been buried in the past. He should have died with them in his own time and not lived into ours."
"No," said Carol, "or I'd never have known him."
She was white and trembling, and her father pulled her to him and let her head rest on his shoulder.
Mr. Marsh said, "Perhaps you're right. I don't know. Anyway, he'll have to be told. And for your sake, I'd better do the telling."