"I couldn't leave Linda," Abby said.
"The standard excuse," he reminded her, his voice more weary than bitter. "What Linda has needed all these years was a father, Abby. You're giving her a warped viewpoint."
"The Somaticists don't think so," Abby flung at him.
He crimsoned. "Somatics aren't the answer. Our era has become so mechanical that people have come to think that pressing a button is going to cure the evils of the world. Pills and pushbuttons are fine in their place, Abby, but they're not the answer, not the complete one anyway. At one time, they thought psychiatry was the answer; they were wrong there, too. The answer's probably a combination of the two."
"I'm not looking for the answer to anything," Abby said wearily. "I just want to be let alone."
Dr. Gower nodded and turned to go.
"Have a nice trip," Abby said, trying to sound cheerful, "I'm sorry we had to argue like this." The thought of his leaving brought a sinking sensation which she tried to thrust off and couldn't. But there was Linda to think of; the girl couldn't go to Venus.
At the door, Dr. Gower hesitated. "I don't know if I should tell you this; it might help, and it might not." He paused again uncertainly and then went on in a decisive tone. "Linda's your own child, Abby."
She looked at him, puzzled. "Of course. The courts—"
Dr. Gower shook his head impatiently. "I don't mean that. I mean Linda was actually born to you."