"There are some quantities so great that you can't measure them," he said. "That will give you some idea of our love for each other."
There it went, the old poetry, cropping out in him just like before. And all the time I'd been thinking it was like measles, something that you get once and it builds up your resistance so you don't get it again, at least not bad. It just goes to show how wrong I could be.
"What preacher are you going to get to marry you?" I asked. "A guy born five hundred years from now?"
"I don't think that's funny," he said.
"You're telling me. Look, Perry, you're smart enough to know what I'm thinking——"
"You still think I'm crazy."
"I got an open mind on the subject. Now, if you won't see a doctor—then how about letting me take a look at this dame, so I can convince myself?"
"No," he said. "I've considered doing that, and decided against it. Her voice and image come through for only about five minutes a day, sometimes less. And those minutes are very precious to us. We don't want any one else present, any one at all."
"Not even to convince me she actually exists?"
"You wouldn't be convinced anyway," he said very shrewdly. "No matter what I showed you, you'd still find a reason to call it a fraud."