"So you think it amusing?"
"No. But on Earth--"
"We are not on Earth. Nor am I of the Earth!" She was gauging me
keenly. No note of pleading was in her voice: a stern authority, and
the passion was swinging to anger.
"I am like my brother: I do not understand you, Gregg Haljan. Perhaps
you think you are clever?"
"Perhaps."
There was a moment of silence. "Gregg, I said I loved you. Have you no
answer?"
"No." In truth, I did not know what sort of answer it would be best to
make. Whatever she must have read in my eyes, it stirred her to fury.
Her fingers with the strength of a man in them, dug into my shoulders.
Her gaze searched me.
"You think you love someone else? Is that it?"
That was horribly startling; but she did not mean it just that way.
She amended, with caustic venom: "That little Anita Prince! You
thought you loved her! Was that it?"
"No!"
But I hardly deceived her. "Sacred to her memory! Her ratlike little
face, soft voice like a purring, sniveling cat! Is that what you're
remembering, Gregg Haljan?"