The troubled eyes darkened swiftly, stormily.
"Nay," denied the Lady Loala savagely, "there is one who cannot go free! I will share you with no other woman, whether of Earth or Daan!"
"You need share me with no other," Steve reminded her with a trace of sadness, "when the operation is done. My mind and heart will be yours alone."
"But she will remember."
"Until," pointed out Steve, "the first time we meet and I know her not. Well, my Lady—what say you? You must decide swiftly. Footsteps approach. If I am not mistaken, the footsteps of my executioners."
The last words settled the indecision of the Daan princess. A shudder coursed through her; instinctively one pale, soft hand stretched forth to touch Stephen Duane's arm possessively. And:
"Very well," cried the Lady Loala. "It shall be as you say. It is a bargain, Steve of Emmeity!"
Then as once again the cell door swung open, this time to expose a phalanx of Venusian guards come to convey their prisoner to execution, she whirled to face the soldiers like a lioness.
"Nay, touch him not!" she cried savagely. "I care not what your orders are; they will be countermanded so soon as I can reach the ears of the Supreme Council. This prisoner goes not to the rack, but to the Mental Laboratory. Take him thither. Prepare him for operation and await my coming."