“It could have fallen farther?” he said, trying to keep the anger and the sternness in his voice.

“Lord, yes,” Myra said. “That was only about a half on the Richter scale.” He suddenly remembered that Myra had studied geology at Ohio State; she was well prepared to become a planet. “I’m pretty sure I could go past ten. With hardly any practice.”

“Are you threatening to earthquake me into submission?”

She didn’t answer for a minute. Then she said, pleasantly, “I want to keep you here with me, Edward. We’re married. And I need you.”

The earthquake had been frightening. But he thought of the supply ships and of the ship that would be bringing the people for the inquest. All he would have to do would be to lie to her, act submissive, and then somehow get on board the ship and away from Belsin before she earthquaked.

“And you want me to read aloud? Or run the microfilm for you?”

“Aloud, Edward,” she said. “I’ll let the others leave, but I want you to stay here. Here in the house.”

“I’ll have to get out every now and then.”

“No, you won’t,” Myra said.

“I’ll need food.”

“I’m already growing it for you. The trees will be up in a few days. And the vegetables: carrots and potatoes and beans and lettuce. Even tobacco, Edward. But no liquor. You’ll have to do without liquor once the supply is gone. But this place will be lovely. I’ll have a lake for you and groves of fruit trees. I can grow anything—the way I grew Endolin before. This will be a beautiful place for you, Edward. A real Eden. And you’ll have it all to yourself.”

He thought crazily of Venice, of women, guitar music. Venice and Rome. Panicked suddenly, he said, “I can run away with the others. You can’t earthquake us all to death. That would be cruel…”

“That’s true enough,” Myra said. “But if you leave this house I’ll open a fissure under you and down you’ll go.” She paused a long moment. “Just like I did, Edward. Down and down.”

He began to talk faster, louder. “What if they come to take me away, to force me to go back to Earth?”

“Oh, come on, Edward. Quit it. I won’t let them ever get to the house. They’ll go away eventually. And I’ll never let anyone land again. Just swallow them up if they try it.”

He felt terribly weary. He walked out onto the terrace and slumped onto the moonwood bench. Myra remained silent. He had nothing to say. He sipped his drink, letting his mind go blank. He sat there alone for a half hour. Or not really alone. It was beginning to dawn on him that he might never be alone again.

Then Myra spoke again, softly. “I know you’re tired, Edward. But I don’t sleep. Not anymore. I wonder if you would read to me a while. I was in the middle of The King’s Mistress. If you’ll switch the microfilm machine on you’ll find my page.”