How could he trust this woman, while that hidden barrier in her eyes still stood between them? How dared he throw aside all suspicion, all caution, so long as she held back secrets?
No; at root the dilemma still was his, and always would be. Not even Nelva Guthrie could share it with him. He had no choice but to go his own road, fight through to his private destiny.
And what better time to start than now?
Tight-lipped, he said, "All this is fine. But it looks to me like it's going in a circle."
Nelva's hands moved nervously. Her eyes opened a trifle wider than seemed normal. "A circle—?"
"You claim I've got amnesia, don't you? Only then you tell me I don't react right for it." Dane laughed, harsh and curt. "To me, that says we're getting nowhere."
A knock broke off the conversation. Quickly, as if relieved at the interruption, Nelva crossed the room and opened the door.
A uniformed tech held out a plastic cylinder. "Here's that cell-sheet, Miss Guthrie."
"Good!" There was an air of relief in the way Nelva said it. She turned to Dane; gestured triumphantly with the cylinder. "This is the answer to your problems, Clark! Your cellemental analysis sheet! Come on!"
Shrugging, Dane fell in beside her. He wondered wryly how he had so suddenly been promoted to first-name status.