"That's nothing. I know how people feel."
"No, you don't." She let that sink in. "On Venus they know when the soil wishes to grow things; they know when things are due to happen. The moon of places tells them where to settle; where they are welcome. Theirs is a language of—of feelings, you might say."
"Instinct. Well developed."
"More than that." She assumed a kindly air of instruction. "It is learned. I know that you, for instance, are at war with yourself. You admire this Captain Lodar, but he is evil. Yet you are sorry for him."
"Sorry!" The idea of feeling sorry for Lodar was startling. It had never even vaguely occurred to him. Lodar was too self-sufficient.
She shrugged, a dainty movement. "You are mentally blind. You don't believe your inner senses." Her delicate face wore a frown as she groped for words. "Lodar hopes to retire on Earth, to live in peace on his ill-gotten gains. But Lodar knows he will never live to enjoy that peace." Her eyes grew large as they met his. He had the uneasy feeling as if she'd opened his mind like a book. Probably her words had overstimulated his imagination. "And you know that, too, inside of you," she ended.
"I know—"
"That Lodar will die," she completed placidly. "Better take us back to Venus."
Was the girl trying to bewitch him? Bog him down in a tangle of mystic nonsense? An air of intimacy tingled his senses. He wanted to touch the girl, to comfort her. Abruptly he stood up.
"Better think over about that promise to keep silent." He felt as if something very fragile had shattered. He was vaguely sorry about it, yet determined to stick to reality.