Later—how much later she didn't know, for during that day and evening she seemed destined to lose large chunks of time—she looked up at him, reveling in his controlled strength and leanness.
"Rolf," she said, "I'm sorry—that was my fault."
"You'd have been less than a woman if you hadn't done something like it to put me in my place," he whispered.
"But it seems so cheap now," she said. "And my head...."
"It wasn't cheap because you didn't know," he told her. "As for your head, you need a change. You're going to get one. You're leaving with me for Mars tonight."
"But, Rolf—" she began.
"Come on, honey," he told her. "It's all arranged. We've only got a couple of hours to make the ship."
She walked back to Mother Weedon's with his arm around her, stumbling a little from time to time like a blind woman. She was going to Mars and the mere idea scared her almost to death.
IV