In a few minutes she was lightly running down the hall; she knocked on the door of Robert's room. "May I come in?"
He did not answer. She waited a little and went in. He was seated on one of the carved chairs, fussing over some scraps of metal on the table. He did not look up.
"Thank you for carrying me, Robert." He did not reply. "Robert—I dreamed of you last night. I dreamed you built another round house and that we both flew away in it. Yasak had to stay behind, and he was furious. Robert! Aren't you listening?"
"I hear you."
"Don't you think it was an exciting dream?" He shook his head. "But why? Robert"—she laid longing hands on his shoulders—"can't you see that I'm in love with you?" He shrugged. "I believe you don't know what love is!"
"I had a faint idea of it when I looked into your mind," he said. "I'm afraid I haven't any use for it. Where I come from there is no love, and there shouldn't be here, either. It's a waste of time."
"Robert—I'm mad about you! I've dreamed of your coming—all my life! Don't be so cruel—so cold to me! You mock me, say that I'm nothing, that I'm not worthy of you—"
She stepped back from him, clenching her hands. "Oh, I hate you—hate you! You don't care the least bit about me—and I've shamed myself in front of you—I, supposed to be Yasak's wife by now!" She began to cry, hid her face in suddenly lax fingers. She looked up fiercely. "I could kill you!" Robert stood immobile, no trace of feeling marring the perfection of his face. "I could kill you, and I will kill you!" she sprang at him.
"You'll hurt yourself," he admonished kindly, and after she had pummeled his chest, bruising her fingers on his armor, she turned away.
"And now if you're through playing your incomprehensible little scene," Robert said, "I hope you will excuse me. I regret that I have no emotions—I was never allowed them. But it is an esthetic regret.... I must go back to my wrecked ship now and arrange the signals there." He did not wait for her leave, but strode out of the room.