He turned around quickly. She still stood there just inside the door. She was more beautiful than he remembered! Her soft brown hair that felt like gossamer when it brushed against his lips; her blue eyes that could speak of love and hate, of pleasure and disgust so eloquently her lips need not move; the soft oval of her face—it was all that he remembered and more....
But he said,
"Business, Miss Packer?" There was no softness in the harsh planes of his face and his dark eyes were blank.
"No, Curt, not business."
"If you'll excuse me then?" Wing said, raising his eyebrows. "There's no time for anything else."
She smiled. "It won't take long, Curt. I just wanted to tell you something before it's too late.
"You never did and never will need me. I don't need you. But I hurt you, you hurt me, too, because I've loved you ever since you and dad first started your force field experiments."
"I still love you, you sweet fool!"
Then she was gone. Wing's cry, "Pat!" struck the closed door.
Wing hurled himself toward the door. Then stopped short as a sleepy "Whassa matter, Curt?" growled out of the corner where Dead-Eye had been napping.