Senegar rolled his spare body off the couch and his high voice was almost senile in his excitement—"You can, my dear—you can!"
"Anything—we will do anything," she answered.
"It will be rather unpleasant for you at first."
"What do you want?" added John standing at Hilda's side.
"Sit down, sit down! I will tell you."
The group of Earth people relaxed but with upturned faces, held fascinated by the old one's earnestness. John's hands were clasped tightly around his knees. Doctor Smithson kept hitching his lean frame forward. The old man's voice was low as he went on.
"This is the trouble, my children, your people are a menace to us. All this ugliness would be bad enough, but the danger of infection is terrible. Our wise ones are fragile beings. We restore the flesh when there is injury or sickness, but we always lose a little of the original vitality. We cannot be killed, but we slowly wear out and must be protected. Our young ones are too few to risk contact with you. Thus we are forced to the logical conclusion that the Earth colony of sick ones must be destroyed and the next ship discouraged from returning."
"No!—No, that's inhuman!" gasped Mary.
"Nothing will happen to you five—We wish to retain you for medical and breeding purposes. But the others must go. Come, now, why should you care about them? You admitted they are all strangers to you. Think of the joy of living several hundred years."
"But those sick ones—they are human!" cried Hilda to John, weeping. "They must find some other way—How could they do such a thing, when they have just shown us such kindness?"