He said impatiently, "Look, I called you to ask for a date. You're
leaving for Callisto tomorrow. It's our last chance to be together.
There's something in particular I wanted to ask you, Di."
She said, a touch irritated, "I'm packing, Don. I simply don't have time
to see you again. I thought we said our goodbyes five days ago."
"This is important, Di."
She tossed the two sweaters she was holding into a chair, or something,
off-screen, and faced him, her hands on her hips.
"No it isn't, Don. Not to me, at least. We've been all over this. Why
keep torturing yourself? You're not ready for marriage, Don. I don't
want to hurt you, but you simply aren't. Look me up, Don, in a few
years."
"Di, just a couple of hours this afternoon."
Dian looked him full in the face and said, "Colin Casey finally died of
his wounds this morning. The President has asked for five minutes of
silence at two o'clock. Don, I plan to spend that time here alone in my
apartment, possibly crying a few tears for a man who died for me and the
rest of the human species under such extreme conditions of gallantry
that he was awarded the highest honor of which man has ever conceived. I
wouldn't want to spend that five minutes while on a date with another
member of my race's armed forces who had deserted his post of duty."
Don Mathers turned, after the screen had gone blank, and walked stiffly
to a booth. He sank onto a chair and called flatly to Harry, "Another
tequila. A double tequila. And don't bother with that lemon and salt
routine."
* * * * *