The great man looked at her with annoyance and shook himself loose.

“I am the daughter of Michael Mateusz, whose death you gladly caused when you burned your factory. I stand here, Hiram Stratton, to accuse you of murder.”

STRAT

Strat ran after Annie. “We'll go to the Sudan!” he shouted over the sand. “The British are having a wonderful war! I'll get another camera. We'll sell your gold sandal and have enough to live on for a while. We'll sail up the Nile and catch the army and I'll be a famous photographer! Annie! Wait!”

He struggled on and on in the sand. He could not seem to reach her. He told himself he would catch up. “We'll get married,” he said. “It would be unseemly to travel together otherwise. I know that I am but nineteen, Annie, and I have no means of properly supporting you. But I have faith in my wits and my abilities!”

He was exhausted. His voice did not carry the way he wanted it to. He was not getting closer to her. “Be my wife, Annie! We shall find a missionary on the banks of the Nile! Or in South Africa! Or on board some fine ship!”

He and Annie would repeat their vows in the presence of God and this company, whoever the company might be. Strat was not picky. He had known the worst of companies. Annie was always eager for adventure. She was no shrinking violet, like the girls in his time.

But like a violet, Annie shrank. He could see her and he could not.

His voice—or perhaps it was hers—cried out, “It isn't fair!”

He lunged forward, sure he could take her hand. But Annie whirled like some dervish of ancient Egypt, spinning and diminishing and vanishing. No! thought Strat. We're going to honeymoon in a far land and make a home as homes are meant to be: children and hope and joy and love.

He could see the Nile in the distance, a dark and shining ribbon, like the ribbons of Annie's hair, and he ran on and on, sure he could reach them both.

ANNIE

No!” screamed Annie Lockwood. “It isn't fair! I came all the way through Time for you, Strat, and you—”

Her voice had no sound and her lungs no air. She wanted to beat her fists upon the chest of Time. This isn't fair! You brought me all this way! I deserve Strat!