He had spent most of his life under the tutelage of his Skin, which ensured that others would know when he was lying. It did not come easy to hide his true feelings. So a habit of a lifetime won out.
"I will not take you," he said. "In the first place, though you may have some admirable virtues, I've failed to detect one. In the second place, I could not stand your blood-drinking nor your murderous and totally immoral ways."
"But, Jean-Jacques, I will give them up for you!"
"Can the shark stop eating fish?"
"You would leave Lusine, who loves you as no Earthwoman could, and go with that—that pale little doll I could break with my hands?"
"Be quiet," he said. "I have dreamed of this moment all my life. Nothing can stop me now."
They were on the wharf beside the bridge that ran up the smooth side of the starship. The guard was no longer there, though bodies showed that there had been reluctance on the part of some to leave.
They let the Earthwoman precede them up the bridge.
Lusine suddenly ran ahead of him, crying, "If you won't have me, you won't have her, either! Nor the stars!"
Her knife sank twice into the Earthwoman's back. Then, before anybody could reach her, she had leaped off the bridge and into the harbor.