He knew that time-traveling just in itself had had a profound effect on her mind. That, combined with the shock of the newspaper, would have sent anyone else into hysterics. Amy was strong, he thought. And thank God for that. Finally, he felt her relax in his embrace. “Are you all right?” She nodded, her head still buried into his chest. “Want to talk?” “I don’t suppose you can tell me I just woke up after a horrible nightmare.” “No. I’m sorry.” She sighed. “Well, I’m not going to blame you for all this. I didn’t have to get involved with you.” “I suppose we can always leave,” he said, looking off, preoccupied. “What?” “I don’t like the idea of retreat and I detest the thought of leaving Leslie John Stephenson at large in this fine city, but if worst comes to worst we can go away in The Utopia before the time of your death. Or even on an airliner, I suppose.” “What are you saying?” “Simply this—we avoid your murder,” he said flatly. “And by so doing, we effectively change the future, quod erat demonstrandum.”
