"It's not that awful," I said. "A lot of Psi's can do it."
"You kissed me!" she said, paying no attention to my question.
"Sure," I agreed. "And you managed your first lift." I picked the pith ball up in my fingers, showed it to her, and laid it on my palm.
"Feel my hand first," I suggested. "Then lift it over onto the desk."
She looked, wild-eyed, at the pith, shaking her head.
"I'll kiss you again," I suggested.
The little ball came away from my palm, floated erratically around, crossed over to my desk and dropped with a soft smack to the teak. She came to me like a tigress. I don't know why I expected a repetition of our first innocent kiss—I knew she had been married once.
I claim good marks for getting her back to her own apartment immediately.
For the balance of the week I saw very little of Pheola during the day. The hospital kept me busy with TK surgery, and I was practicing scalpel work with my newly-strong right arm, now that I had two hands to use. I'd be something more than a TK surgeon yet.