Then it was night indeed.  But the Earth shone forth, a half-globe of seas and clouds and continents, vast and nostalgic in the sky.  And now Earthshine fell upon the moon.  It was many times brighter than moonlight ever was upon the Earth.  Even at lunar sunset the Earthlight was sixteen times brighter.  At midnight, when the Earth was full, it would be bright enough for any activity.  Actually, the human beings on Luna were nearly nocturnal in their habits, because it was easier to run moon-jeeps in frigidity and keep men and machines warm enough for functioning, than it was to protect them against the more-than-boiling heat of midday on the moon.

So the activity about the salvaged space-ship increased.  There were electric lights blazing in the demi-twilight, to guide freight vehicles with their loads.  The tourist-jeeps went and returned and went and returned.  The last shipload of travelers from Earth wanted to see the space-craft about which all the world was talking.

Even Cochrane presently became curious.  There came a time when all the paper-work connected with what had happened was done with, and conditional contracts drawn up on everything that could be foreseen.  It was time for something new to happen.

Cochrane said dubiously: 

“Babs, have you seen the ship?”

She shook her head.

“I think we’d better go take a look at it,” said Cochrane.  “Do you know, I’ve been acting like a damned business man!  I’ve only been out of Lunar City three times.  Once to the laboratory to talk, once to test a signal-rocket across the crater, and once when the distress-torp went off.  I haven’t even seen the nightclub here in the City!”

“You should,” said Babs matter-of-factly.  “I went once, with Doctor Holden.  The dancing was marvelous!”

“Bill Holden, eh?” said Cochrane.  He found himself annoyed.  “Took you to the nightclub; but not to see the ship!”

“The ship’s farther,” explained Babs.  “I could always be found at the nightclub if you needed me.  I went when you were asleep.”

“Damn!” said Cochrane.  “Hm ...  You ought to get a bonus.  What would you rather have, Babs, a bonus in cash or Spaceways stock?”

“I’ve got some stock,” said Babs.  “Mr. Bell—­the writer, you know—­got in a poker game.  He was cleaned out.  So I gave him all the money I had—­I told you I cleared out my savings-account before we came up, I think—­for half his shares.”

“Either you got very badly stuck,” Cochrane told her cynically, “or else you’ll be so rich you won’t speak to me.”

“Oh, no!” said Babs warmly.  “Never!”

Cochrane yawned.

“Let’s get out and take a look at the ship.  Maybe I can stow cargo or something, now there’s no more paper-work.”

Babs said with an odd calm: 

“Mr. Jones wanted you out there today—­in an hour, he said.  I promised you’d go.  I meant to mention it in time.”