"And I think the Company is not corrupt and your father has radiation poisoning. One of us has to be wrong, right?"
"Correct, Tom."
"Let's find out. There are ways of testing for radiation-sickness. I'll go into the clinic in the morning and get the answer."
She also lifted up on one elbow, peering at me, her long hair braided down her back. "Will you?"
"Sure. And we'll make bets on it, Rena. If you are wrong—if your father has radiation poisoning—I want you to tell me everything there is to tell about the riot today and the people behind it. If I'm wrong—" I swallowed—"if I'm wrong, I'll get your father out of there for you. Somehow. I promise it, Rena."
There was absolute silence for a long time. Then she swung out of the bed and hurried over to me, her hands on mine. She looked at me and again I saw tears. "Will you do that, Tom?" she asked, hardly audible.
"Why, sure," I said awkwardly. "But you have to promise—"
"I promise!"
She was staring at me, at arm's length. And then something happened. She wasn't staring and she wasn't at arm's length.
Kissing her was like tasting candied violets; and the Moon made her lovelier than anything human; and the bellboy had not been so presumptuous, after all, when he left us the champagne.