"I ... feel miserable," she sobbed.
"It's a tough load to bear," he said softly, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"It's unfair," she said shakily. "Look, Jack, I know you too well to believe that hard exterior. You put that on because you're excessively soft inside and people can hurt you too easily if you're not careful. I am like that, but I'm not as soft as you are."
Jack laughed a bit. It was a false laugh, designed to lift her out of the doldrums.
It failed.
"For eight long years," she said earnestly, "I've taken from Ralph everything that any woman would find ideal. I've had companionship, tenderness, love and affection. Complete compatibility. He's met my every mood. And not only because it will please me for him to mirror my moods, but because he feels that way too, and his moods change as mine do. He is absolutely happy to follow or lead me into any change of mood and we're never far apart. I've been protected and loved by the man I wanted. That's perfection.
"But for four of those years, I've been unable to reciprocate."
"Now, Jenna, that's not true."
"I love him—even more, now. And I'd do nothing to stand in the way of his happiness. But Jack, remember I'm Martian and he is denied his right to command a battle squadron. Because of me. He's stuck in this noncombat group—because of my heritage. In all that time, he has never shown it, yet he must know. If anything, he has become more tender, more protecting, more affectionate. More tolerant. Yet what can I do to give him release from this? Suicide isn't the proper answer. That would deprive me of what I want, and his desire is not completely to the service. But he cannot have his cake and eat it too."
"That's quite a load, Jenna," said Grant tenderly. "I hadn't realized."