Until some observer traversed interstellar distances at speeds approximating the speed of light and returned to the planet from which he had started there could be no answer. Nancy is a cat and can't help it. By the time he had worked down to the far end of the room the outer sides of each arm were covered with little red scratches, more than twenty of them. Why the sour look? I don't know.
There followed a weary argument because Mr. Harriman sat and moped for several minutes after Montgomery had cleared the screen. It means- He ran down. I found out there was just the one patrol-not many scouts on the Moon, I suppose.
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