“Surely it must do more harm than good?” The Waz looked amazed. “I know if I were sent to such a place, I should come out hardened and defiant.”
The Jovian smiled. “That is where we differ, my Alan. The Keemarnian hates evil of every kind. This dread is born in him. He offends—ever so slightly. The Priest remonstrates with him. He makes promises to atone, but offends again. No second chance is given him. Straight to the Hall of Sorrows he is sent, there to live in discomfort, cold and solitude. He is too ashamed to mix with his fellow creatures; so his sin is purged and he comes out a better man.”
Alan laughed slightly at the Keemarnian’s earnestness. “I am afraid, my friend, that the world I came from was more material than yours. A life in such a place would have led to worse sin—it would not have cured it.”
“Then I am glad I belong to Keemar,” said the Waz simply.
They made the return journey in record time, and Desmond and Mavis were waiting for Alan on the roof station when the air bird sailed in.
“Welcome home,” said Mavis. “We have missed you badly. However everything is ready for you, and in three more Kymos we will have you safely married.”
“Are you so anxious to get rid of me?” laughed Alan.
“No,” answered Mavis with a happy smile, “but I’ve tasted the joys myself, and I want you to find your happiness also, my brother.”
“That’s very nicely put, Mavis,” said Alan tenderly. “I could wish for no one but you for Desmond. At first I was a little jealous when I thought his affection for me would be halved.”
“Not halved, Alan.”