A wave of tenderness swept over Dane, so poignant it made his whole throat ache. Taking the girl in his arms, he held her to him, smoothing the soft hair, bracing her shoulders against the sobs.
The tears stopped, after a moment. Nelva raised her head; looked up at him, trying to smile even while her lips still trembled.
Gently, Dane said, "Don't worry, Nelva. We'll make it somehow."
"Don't lie to me, Clark. I know what's going to happen, and it really doesn't matter." The girl's lips still smiled, but a shadow lay across the grey eyes. "Just one thing, though, Clark: I've got to tell you, and you've got to believe me. I've never betrayed you, not ever, even for a moment." A pause. The grey eyes, falling again. "You see, I've—I've always loved you, ever since the first, so long ago—long before you remember. Only I couldn't help you, didn't dare to tell you, even a little...."
Dane stood very still. "You ... didn't dare tell me?"
"No. Because I didn't know enough—about you; your potential...."
"But what didn't you dare to tell me?"
Nelva buried her face against his shoulder. Her words came muffled now. "About the things you wanted to know—who you are, where you came from, the hairless man."
Dane's heart pounded. Silently, savagely, he fought against letting his voice soar with his tension; against drawing his arms too tight about the girl's slim shoulders.