"Hello," said a voice behind him. He turned to find Joan Allen standing there clothed in radiation armor and holding a small canvas bag in one hand. "I thought ... I mean ... I came to say good-bye."
"Hello, yourself. I thought you were on board with the rest of them." He got up hastily.
"No. I got the kids on board but I wanted one more look at the schoolhouse before we shoved off."
Somehow he was holding onto her arm, "I guess it meant a lot to you, that schoolhouse," he said.
"Yes, it did. I ... I was afraid that I wouldn't get to see you when you get to New Chicago."
"There's no danger of that, Joanie. If and when I get there, I'll be looking for you ... that is ... if you want to see me."
"If you think you can stand an old maid school teacher, I'll be looking for you." She was very close to him now. "Why did you do it, Terrence? Why are you making the march with the Narakans? Fielding says your chances aren't very good."
"I'll thank Fielding to keep his big mouth shut! I don't really know why, probably kind of an Earthman's Burden, noblesse oblige ... you know ... something like the sort of thing Kipling used to write about."
"Hell," she said, surprising him with her vehemence, "you don't believe that guy any more than I do. It was old when Kipling wrote it and it's even older now. I think that somewhere under that tough Irish skin of yours, there's a sentimental fool hiding."
She was still closer now with her hands pressed lightly against his chest and suddenly his arms went around her, he lifted her protective visor and forced his lips down hard on hers. All of her primness had disappeared as she leaned against him, returning his kiss with a burning eagerness which a more experienced woman might have controlled.