"Are you in love with her, Joel?"
"Love?" He looked puzzled. The word was archaic. The Eugenic Board's
policy of controlled scientific breeding had pretty well obliterated
that particular passion. Desire remained, but it was physical. "Oh," he
said finally, "you mean the emotion that all the old poets used to rave
about. That's atavistic, isn't it?"
"But we're atavisms," she said.
Joel stared at Priscilla, conscious of that strange affinity binding
them together. He could feel the pulse ticking in his throat. He took a
step towards her, stopped, furious with himself.
"What about those other men you bought?" he demanded hoarsely; "the
ones who disappeared?"