"But she's my wife," he said stubbornly.
"Are you sure?"
Actually Luis wasn't—but he wanted her to be, or any variation thereof she would consent to. He explained.
"As she says, there are a lot of factors," commented the counselor. "I'd suggest an examination. It may remove some of her objections."
He hadn't thought of it, but he accepted it eagerly. "What will that do?"
"Not much, unfortunately. It will prove that you two can have healthy normal children, but it won't indicate that you're not a member of her genetic family. And, of course, it won't touch on the question of legal family, brother-in-law and the like. I don't suppose she'd accept that."
She wouldn't. He'd seen her for only a brief time and yet he knew that much. He was in an ambiguous position; he could make snap decisions he was certain were right, but he had to guess at facts. He and the girl were victims, and the police refused to help them in the only way that would do much good. And the police had, or thought they had, official reasons for their stand.
Luis told the counselor just exactly what he thought of that.
"It's too bad," agreed the counselor. "These things often have an extraordinary degree of permanency if they ever get started."
If they ever got started! Luis reached out and turned off the screen. It flickered unsteadily—the counselor was trying to call him back. He didn't want to talk to the man; it was painful, and Borgenese had nothing to add but platitudes, and fuel to his anger. He swung open the panel and jerked the wiring loose and the screen went blank.