His wife shrugged, and we turned back, leaving the picnic debris with Daphne.
When we reached the ship, she tossed her head and breathed deeply. "I like it out here. The air—it's—wonderful."
We sought the shade on the far side, out of view of the crouching Major and lay side by side facing each other. It was the first time we had been alone since the moment in the galley. I was determined not to upset her again, but she kept her gaze on my eyes, waiting, expectant.
This time I answered her unasked question. "No. You're oxygen drunk. Besides, there's no future in it," I said bluntly.
"I know him," she said softly. "He won't return until dark. This may be our last chance to—to find out about each other."
"Find out what?"
Her lips drew into a faint pout. "Aren't you curious—about me?"
While I was strangling for an answer she went on, "And I must discover whether you are worth doing now what I must do some day." Her lips were tight now.
"What is that?"
She didn't answer, but she moved her head closely until her breath was sweet in my nostrils. My discretion vanished and I reached for her. Our lips met but she held our bodies apart with her hands.